LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 



Chap 



f^i 



3W 

opyright No. 

M?6 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Lays 



OF A 



Wandering Minstrel, 



By [/ 

Anne Virginia Culbertson, 









'. AUG ' - i no* 



\^--$"-' 



PHILADELPHIA: 

PRESS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. 

MDCCCXCVI. 



T53^ r 



Copyright, 1896, 

BY 

Anne Virginia Culbertson. 



@C*V 




PROLOGUE : 

THE WANDERING MINSTREL.* 

Good friends, you will remember how, we're told, 

In other days the troubadours of old 

Made tuneful songs and sang them, too, with skill, 

How even mighty princes deigned to fill 

The office of the singer with much art. 

E'en doughty Richard of the Lion Heart, 

Betwixt his deeds of daring, dropped the sword, 

And, taking pen, wrote now and then a word 

That has descended to this later day, 

Along with here and there a roundelay 

From prince and lord who, 'twixt their grim crusades, 

Made polished verse in honor of the maids 

For whom they tilted with uplifted lance 

In all the lists of mediaeval France. 

But there were humbler singers in those times, 

Who wandered forth equipped with ruder rhymes, 

And sang them both in way-side and in hall, 

'Neath cottage roof or stately tower tall. 

Such one was welcome whereso'er he went, 

And to his tales the eager people lent 

A willing ear, and thought it only meet 

That he should occupy a snug, warm seat 



* Since many of the poems in this collection have been used by 
the author in her public readings in various cities, she has thought 
it not inappropriate to publish them under the title, "Lays of a 
Wandering Minstrel." 

3 



PROLOGUE: THE WANDERING MINSTREL. 

Beside the hearth, and eat and drink the best, 
For one brief night, at least, an honored guest. 

Ah me ! how great the change 'twixt now and then ! 

The lords of song now sit at home with pen 

In hand and speed their ditties forth, 

On tides of ink, throughout all parts of earth. 

But even they sing only for the few : 

The world, these days, has far too much to do 

To hark o'er-long to any poet's lay, 

And for the humbler singers — well-a-day ! 

They have not e'en the shadow of a chance, 

Unless, like those poor bards of ancient France, 

They take their cherished rhymes and wander wide, 

From busy mart to quiet countryside, 

Singing their songs in modest strain and low, 

Scarce honored like those bards of long ago. 

And such a wandering minstrel, friends, am I. 

To share your roof and board I do not try, 

But at the glowing fire of the heart 

I fain would sit and warm, ere I depart ! 

Now if I strike some chord that rings not true, 

O'erlook it, since but brief my stay with you ; 

And if I should wax wearisome, I pray 

You'll bear with me, I've wandered far to-day. 



CONTENTS. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

PAGE 

The Songs I shall not Sing 1 1 

The Iroquois Legend of Indian Corn 14 

Secure 17 

Gyda of Valldres 18 

A Release 22 

The Holding of Pepperell Bridge 24 

Brothers Twain 28 

A Haunted House 30 

The Poet's Talisman $7, 

The*Critic , . . 34 

Example 35 

Les Deux Amants (The Two Lovers) 36 

Ennui 43 

Quakeress Ruth 45 

Renouncement 50 

The Poet's Paradise 5 2 

The River of the Dead 56 

The Steed of Cambuscan 57 

An Old-Time Lover 58 

Summer Twilight 63 

Heroines Unsung 65 

Gunhilda, Empress of Rome . , .... ... 66 

Woman the Echo 74 

To the New Woman 75 

A Woman's Place 76 

Rene Chastaine 77 

Life's Tragedy and Comedy 79 

April Snows 80 

1* 5 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Those Other Years 81 

The Brave Taper-Bearer 83 

Love and Death 87 

The Legend of Lachrymae Christi 89 

The Courage of Life , 94 



A FEW LYRICS AND SONNETS. 

O White, Sweet Flower of Peace 97 

A Lover's Bargain 99 

How, When, and Why 100 

Blow, Sweet Wind of the Spring-time, Blow 101 

The Moon-Flower 102 

O Tender Buds of Green 104 

He Kissed My Hand 105 

The One Bright Hour 106 

June's Magic Draught 107 

The Further Word 109 

Three Sonnets : Birth, Death, and Life no 

The Warning 112 

Sonnet to the Summer Sun 113 

Love's Universe 114 



TRIFLES LIGHT AS AIR. 

Looking-Glass vs. Sword 117 

When Chandeliers do Shed Their Blaze 118 

The Mighty God, Propinquity 119 

On the Sands 120 

A Lover's Even-Song 122 

Stay, Little Moment ! 123 

Triolet: He Stole Just One Kiss 124 

Lover and Husband 125 

Spring Fancies 126 

Ode {Owed) to My Old Shoe 128 

L'Envoi: The Alchemy of Thought . , , 130 



CONTENTS. 7 
A FEW DIALECT POEMS. 

PAGE 

IIuw They Go On 133 

Sati'fied with June 135 

The Jacktown Fair 137 

The P'int of View 140 

Our Oleevy 141 

Makin' Mud-Pies 144 

A Little Boy's Faith : a Story of the Hospital .... 146 

Barney of Killarney 149 

The Rivals 151 

My Li'l Gal done got a Beau 153 

!___- De Inch-Wum an' de Hopper-Grass 156 

A Toas' 158 

My Chillen's Pictyah 160 

Gittin' Under Power 162 

Mist' Peacock an' Mis' Guinea-Hen 166 

Tell 'em Howdy 169 

Go Lightly, Gal 171 

1 Quit Yo' Worryin' 173 

Chri'mus Comin' 175 

De Tukkey-Tail Fan .177 

Miss Jinny . 179 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



THE SONGS I SHALL NOT SING. 

The world is full of wondrous melody, 

Ah, yes ! 
The diapason deep of troubled sea, 

No less 
The treble of the tuneful thrush's song, 
And all the throbbing harmonies that throng 

Between : 
And yet, alas, I am not satisfied, 
My ever-restless, craving soul is tried ; 

I lean 
And listen, sad, while faintest echoes ring 
Of songs I shall not sing. 

I hear them when my spirit with the beams 

Of morn 
Hastens from that dim languorous land where dreams 

Are born ; 
And when, enwrapped in twilight's misty veil, 
My weary senses slowly fade and fail, 

Oh, then 
They thrill my being with their harmony, 
So full, so deep, so rich, so wild, so free ! 

But when 
I fain would grasp them, only echoes ring 
Of songs I shall not sing. 

ii 



12 THE SONGS I SHALL NOT SLNG. 

There is a cadence through the wind-swept trees, 

So sweet 
In vain its melody I strive to seize, 

Repeat ; 
And in the tempest is a song so grand 
My feeble throat doth not the notes command 

Whereby 
I may interpret to the world again ; 
Deep in the halls of thought they sound, yet when 

I try 
To give them forth, but shadowy echoes ring 
Of songs I shall not sing. 

There is a tender accent in the voice 

Of Love, 
Making the lover's heart all else rejoice 

Above, 
But when its sweetness I essay to match 
There is a timbre that I may not catch ; 

And so 
When Sorrow's minor I would fain translate 
There is a sadness that I fail to mate ; 

I know 
Howe'er I strive but echoes faint will ring 
Of songs I shall not sing. 

And shall my voice ne'er compass all I hear 

And feel? 
Must I, then, dumb, insensate still appear? 

Reveal 
No tithe of all that throbs and thrills amain ? 
And must I know the sweet yet bitter pain 



THE SONGS I SHALL NOT SING. 

To mark 
While lips more facile than mine own have been 
Pour forth what mine perversely have pent in, 

And hark 

While satisfying, sweet, and full they ring, 

The songs I shall not sing ? 

Or shall I find, one day, some radiant sphere 

Afar, 
Where soul to soul shall make its meaning clear, 

Nor mar 
With one false note the beauty of the song 
That ebbs and flows the shores of Sound along ? 

Yes, there, 
With those who raise the loftiest strains on high 
To lift my voice, sure, one day I, even I 

May dare, 
And hear at last those songs all perfect ring 
That here I shall not sing ! 



J 3 



THE IROQUOIS LEGEND OF INDIAN CORN. 

A story of the old time. Earth was young, 

Sun, moon, and stars were newly hung in place; 

Then Indians first were made, and one there was 
Who lived alone, far, far from all his race. 

He knew not fire, nor of the arrow's use, 
Nor from its home the lurking fish to lure ; 

Bark, roots, and nuts were all the food he knew, 
Nor sought he any other to procure. 

At length he lonely grew, and longed for men, 
Of digging roots grew tired, nor couid he eat, 

Dozing and dreaming in the sun he lay, 

And when he woke, lo ! standing at his feet 

Something there was so beautiful, so strange, 
Fear o'er him fell, but when the being spoke, 

A lovely woman then he knew it was, 
And joy within his lonely heart awoke. 

No Indian was she ; tall and fair she stood, 

With long, pale locks that glistened like the day. 

" Come thou to me !" he prayed of her in vain, 
When he drew near the woman fled away. 

Then sang he of his longing unto her, 

And it was as the voice of birds in spring, 
14 



THE IROQUOIS IE G END OE INDIAN CORN 15 

Who woo their mates to them with soft, low cries, 
And these the words he unto her did sing : 

" O woman ! I was sick and lonely, 

I was sad ! 
No voice I heard save night-winds only. 

Come thou and make me glad ! 

" O woman ! I was sick and lonely, 

I was sad ! 
I longed, for what, I knew not, only 

That it would make me glad ! 

" O woman ! I was sick and lonely, 

I was sad ! 
But now I know my heart cried only 

For thee to make it glad ! 

" O woman ! leave me not thus lonelv, 

Sick and sad ! 
Henceforth with thee, and with thee only, 

Can I be whole or glad !" 

So sang he softly, and at last her heart 
Was melted by the sorrow of his song. 

" Do thou as I shall say to thee," she cried, 
" And evermore shall I to thee belong !" 

" Speak thou, and I will do !" She led him forth 
To where the summer sun had scorched the grass 

Until it lifeless lay along the earth, 

And there she deftly taught him how to pass 



1 6 THE IROQUOIS IEGEND OF INDIAN CORN 

Two faggots one across the other swift, 
Until forth sped a spark of fire and blew 

The dry grass in a flame which serpent-wise 
The sun-,dried meadow quickly darted through. 

" Now when the sun is set, do thou me drag 
Across the blackened ground by my long hair." 

" Nay, all my heart is turned to thee," he cried, 
" From this rude task I pray thou wilt me spare !" 

" Nay, fear not thou, for where thou draggest me, 
Green things shall spring that seem at first like 
grass, 

And these shall grow until from 'neath the leaves 
My head shall rise and look to see thee pass : 

" And when my hair waves softly in the wind, 
Know thou that I am ready for thee ; when 

Green blades are whispering in the breeze, 'tis I, 
Who summon thee to take me to thee then." 

And since that olden time, when Indians see 
The yellow hair upon the corn-stalk wave, 

They know that she has come to them once more, 
Nor has forgot the promise that she gave. 



SECURE. 

O Soul of mine, 
That wafted me, unasked, unto this place, 
Across I know not what of time and space, 
On noiseless wing, 
Stand still for questioning ! 
Passive I walked with thee until to-day, 
But now would fain our steps a bit delay 
For reckoning. 
Why didst thou hither bring 
Me, O my Soul, and whither do we go ? 
Thou wilt not answer? Nay, then, be it so. 
Move on, my Soul, 
Whatever be thy goal ! 
I cannot shake thee off, nor canst thou me, 
Bonded art thou and I eternally. 
Nor will I task 
Thee more, O Soul, nor ask 
Whither our footsteps tend. Serene, I place 
My hand in thine and forward turn my face, 
For this I know, 
Naught doth from evil flow, 
Then sure am I that thou through ?eons vast 
Wilt bring me to the All-Good Source at last. 



17 



GYDA OF VALLDRES. 

King Eric's daughter grew tall and fair 
Under a bonder's fostering care ; 
Never a maid who might compare 
With Gyda of Valldres. 

Soon there flew through the listening air, 
To Harald the king with the gold-bright hair, 
Flocks of rumors that told how fair 
Was Gyda of Valldres. 

Then Harald the fair-haired straightway sent, 
Swift as the shaft when the bow is bent, 
Message with wording of this intent, 
To Gyda of Valldres. 

" Since men have told me how fair thou'rt grown, 
Fain, fain would I claim thee for my own. 
Wilt thou not share my heart and throne, 
O Gyda of Valldres?" 

Then proudly backward she threw her head, 
While firm was her voice and free from dread, 
Fiercely her eyes flashed as she said, — 
Brave Gyda of Valldres, — 
18 



GYDA OF VALLDRES. 

" Go back whence you came, my men, and say 
To this petty king, I answer, Nay ! 
Maidens there are whom please it may, 
Not Gyda of Valldres ! 

" Nay, further, never will I wed 
A king whose power doth not spread 
Throughout his land !" so scornful said 
Young Gyda of Valldres. 

" 'Tis strange that in Norway doth not reign 
One able to conquer a whole domain, 
Like Eric the Swede or Gorm the Dane," 
Quoth Gyda of Valldres. 

" Tell him when over fair Norroway land, 
Sole king of all, he shall hold command, 
Then he may sue for the maiden hand 
Of Gyda of Valldres!" 



Back to the king the messengers went. 
"The maiden's pride, O king, should be bent, 
By force to take her 'twere well thou sent 
For Gyda of Valldres." 



"Not so," said Harald, "she speaks not ill. 
I owe her thanks, for she doth instil 
A thought I rest not till I fulfil, — 
This Gyda of Valldres. 



19 



GYDA OF VALLDRES. 

"And here on this Brage-cup I swear 
Never to comb or to cut my hair 
Till Norway be mine, then I may dare 
Woo Gydaof Valldres." 

Forth went the king through Norroway land, 
Many a battle on sea and strand 
He gained with his sturdy warrior band 
For Gyda of Valldres. 

To Gyda of Valldres, sitting at home, 
Rumors of victory swiftly come. 
" For hope of me doth he fight and roam," 
Thinks Gyda of Valldres. 

A smile melts over proud Gyda's face 
Where dawning love writes a soft, faint trace, 
"A wooing worthy his kingly race !" 
Cries Gyda of Valldres. 



After the battle of Hafr's Fjord, 
Of Norway the undisputed lord, 
King Harald toasted at festal board 
"Fair Gydaof Valldres!" 



" The shears now bring me," he cried at last, 
" Mine oath I have kept both true and fast, 
But the time of waiting is over and past, 
O Gyda of Valldres ! 



GYDA OF VALLDRES. 21 

"Earl Ragnvald, sever thou close this hair 
Which I on the Brage-bowl did swear, 
Till I might claim her, untouched to wear, — 
Claim Gydaof Valldres." 

Then Ragnvald of More straightway shed 
The locks of Harald the Frowsy-head ; 
"A golden offering," Harald said, 
"To Gydaof Valldres." 

Marvel they all at those locks so bright, 
"Fair Haired" thereafter is Harald hight, 
Hastes he onward to keep his plight 
With Gyda of Valldres. 

Long they gaze down the deeps of the eyes, 
Each reading there with a sweet surprise 
A new-born feeling which rose-red dyes 
Shy Gyda of Valldres. 

"A king indeed to mine eyes is shown ! 
One monarch alone fills Norway's throne ! 
And Norway's king is my king, I own," 
Breathes Gyda of Valldres. 



A RELEASE. 

Yes, you swore to love me ever, 

I recall, 
But I knew that man is never 

Long held thrall. 

All your sighs, your pleas, you meant them, 

Ah ! I know, 
And you dreamed the love that lent them 

Could not go. 

Dearest, think not I would blame you, 

As for wrong ! 
Mine the fault I could not claim you 

Over-long. 

I have lacked somehow in sweetness, — 

Or in art, — 
Shown too fully love's completeness 

In my heart. 

I foresaw this day,' yet knowing, 

Gave I all, 
Gladly all myself bestowing 

At your call. 



22 



A RELEASE. 

Heart and soul and mind, I deemed them 

All as naught, 
So, e'en briefly, you esteemed them 

What you sought. 

Think not I would chain you to me. 

Love compelled, 
In the end would but undo me, 

Best withheld. 

I have never grieved you, knowing, 

In the past, 
And you shall not see tears flowing 

At the last ! 

Since you do not love me longer, 

Then, good-by ! 
Men, they say, than we are stronger, 

'Tis a lie! 

Is my voice not still unshaking 

As I cry, 
E'en a note of laughtei taking, 

Dear, good-by ! 



2 3 



THE HOLDING OF PEPPERELL BRIDGE. 

[A true incident of the Revolutionary War. Pepperell Bridge 
stretches over the Nashua River, between the towns of Hollis, New 
Hampshire, and Pepperell, Massachusetts. On the bridge is a 
monument commemorative of Prudence Cummings Wright.] 

Gallant deeds of gallant men 
Merit praise from tongue and pen. 
But when woman ventures forth 
From the quiet of the hearth, 
And achieves some daring deed, 
Should she not have double meed ? 
Listen then to what befell 
On the bridge of Pepperell. 

Once Horatius, we know, 
Held a bridge against the foe ; 
And the gallant deed was sung 
By a bard of silver tongue, 
In the lays of ancient Rome. 
Sing /something nearer home; 
Of a woman's deed I tell, 
On the bridge of Pepperell. 

This is how the story goes : 
When the British were our foes, 
Word to Hollis town was brought, 
That one Captain Whiting sought 
24 



THE HOLDING OF PEPPER ELL BRIDGE. 

Secret messages to bring 

To the army of the king : 

He must pass, 'twas known full well, 

O'er the bridge of Pepperell. 

Consternation followed, for 
All the men had gone to war, 
And the Hollis women knew 
It would never, never do, 
That such messages should go 
Through their village to the foe. 
These, they swore, whate'er befell, 
Should not pass o'er Pepperell. 

So they rose up in their might, 
Chose as captain Prudence Wright, 
Donned the garb of absent men, 
Armed as best they could, and then 
Sallied forth to do or die 
When the tory should pass by. 
Halting where they knew right well 
He must pass o'er Pepperell. 

Then said pretty Captain Prue, 
" Lasses, I depend on you ! 
Since ye now as men are drest, 
Act the part and do your best ! 
Out on any puling maid 
Dares betray she is afraid ! 
Death alone shall stay or quell ! 
Lasses, on to Pepperell ! ' ' 
» 3 



26 THE HOLDING OF PEPPERELL BRIDGE. 

Mistress Prudence Cummings Wright, 
All equipped and armed for fight, 
Would I could have gazed on you, 
Pretty amazonian Prue ! 
I can fancy how you shook 
As the old flint-lock you took, 
Yet your voice nor shook nor fell 
As it rang o'er Pepperell. 

" Halt !" it cried, and, "Who goes there? 

Come no nearer or I fire !" 

" Not one further step I ride !" 

One who rode with Whiting cried, 

" 'Tis my sister Prue ! alas, 

She would never let us pass 

Save when her dead body fell ! 

I turn back from Pepperell ! ' ' 

'Twas her tory brother who 
Turned his back on Mistress Prue, 
Riding fast and far away ; 
And the feeling from that day 
Ran so high his traitor face 
Looked no more upon the place ; 
Richard Cummings, so they tell, 
Never more crossed Pepperell. 

Then the pretty warrior crew, 
Headed by fair Mistress Prue, 
Seized on Captain Whiting fast, 
Searched him well, and found at last 



THE HOLDING OF PEPPER ELL DRLDGE. 27 

What they sought for in his boots, — 
Pretty well for raw recruits ! 
Then said Prue, " Now go and tell 
Women guarded Pepperell !" 



Though they bravely held the bridge, 
'Tis the poet's privilege 
To be certain at the last, 
When all cause for fear was past, 
Some sat down and wept, and some 
Shook so they could scarce gain home, 
Nor could their emotions quell 
After guarding Pepperell. 

That is lovely woman's way 
Even in our later day ; 
Ready she to do or die — 
If she can but have a cry 
When the thing is past and done 
And the battle fairly won. 
So I'm certain some tears fell 
At the bridge of Pepperell. 

Gallant deeds of gallant men 
Merit praise from tongue and pen, 
But when women venture forth 
From the quiet of the hearth, 
And achieve some daring deed, 
Should they not have double meed ? 
Then let bravos rise and swell 
For the guards of Pepperell. 



BROTHERS TWAIN. 

I walked with Love. 
Our feet were set upon a dewy emerald mead ; 

Oh. pleasant was the way 

And fair the day ! 
To him I said, "Ah, Love, this, this is life indeed !" 

A voice breathed low, 
"O woman, thou hast said whereof thou knowcst not. 

Turn, turn thy face to me 

And thou shalt see 
One who hath larger part than he in thy life's lot." 

"Who, then, art thou?" 
I said, and coldly kept my face from him away. 

"Love's brother, I," he said, 

"And ever tread 
Near him, though thou hast known it not until to-day." 

" Thy name !" I cried. 
' ' Men call me Sorrow : though I love, they love not 
me. 
Place thou in mine thy hand 
And firmer stand, 
Thou wilt grow weak if Love alone doth walk with 
thee. 
28 



2 9 



BROTHERS TWAIN. 

"Though he should fail, 
I will walk with thee faithful to the very end. 

Turn, turn thy face to me 

And thou shalt see 
No foe am I, as thou dost deem ; instead, thy friend. 

I turned at last. 
No glory, as in Love's dear smiling face, I saw ; 

A steadfast gaze and sweet 

Mine own did meet, 
Nor was I fain my hand from his close clasp to draw. 



'Tis long since then. 
With careless clasp and lax, Love lightly holds my hand 

But Sorrow holds me fast, 

And we have passed, 
Together leaning, through a tender, twilight land. 



A HAUNTED HOUSE. 

Dear one, how wrapt you are and still ! 
I wonder do your thoughts incline 
In the same way to-night as mine, 

Our hearts to one chord thrill ? 
Do you recall what night is this? 
When it is past we shall have flown 
From this old house where we have known 

Such mingled pain and bliss. 

Come, dear, together let us roam, 

Hand clasped in hand, the old house through, 

And bid this humble spot adieu 

That was our young love's home. 
Ah ! here it was you lifted me 
Across the threshold, as a bride, 
In your strong arms, with manly pride, 

And bade me welcome be. 

How proud you were of this small nest 
Your brave young hands had toiled to make ! 
For me, how pleased I was to take 

Upon me all the rest, — 
Those makeshifts of adornment which 
We've laughed at since, but now, in sooth, 
Dear those reminders of our youth 

As splendors of the rich. 
30 



A HAUNTED HOUSE, 

Sacred to friendship's faithful rites, 
What happy memories cluster here, 
About this hearthstone, of good cheer, 

Of pleasant winter nights ! 
Here, in this keeping-room, arise 
The shapes of many come and gone, 
And some we shall not look upon 

Again with mortal eyes. 

And this room was our very own, 

Our refuge from the world without, 

'Twas here we brought each care and doubt, 

And lo ! the ill was flown. 
Here woke the mother's tender thrill ; 
Long after, here I vainly pressed 
Our eldest-born against my breast 

To warm his deadly chill. 

And this long room with windows wide 
Was where the children had their plays ; 
I thought them boisterous those days, 

But since, my heart has cried 
For merry shapes that come no more ; 
Forth on life's journey they are gone, 
Only their little wraiths stay on, 

Shut in behind this door. 

This room our mother sanctified. 
No ill for which she had not balm 
In her wise words and presence calm, 
Her sympathies world-wide. 



3* 



3 2 



A HAUNTED HOUSE. 

Ah, that last smile ! amid the flowers 
Her face transfigured seemed to loom ! 
We shall not need a " mother's room" 
In that new house of ours ! 

Dear love, I cannot leave this spot ! 
Such blessed memories linger here, 
More priceless growing with each year, 

You feel it, do you not ? 
Strange feet will walk where now ours tread, 
Strange hands will alter and deface 
And with strange chattels fill the place, 

And oust our sacred dead ! 

I never thought to go until 

Strong hands should bear me, just once more, 

But ah ! not yours, as once before, 

Across the narrow sill. 
These foolish tears ! nay, do not scold ! — 
I shall be happy as I've been 
If but your love endure within 

1 he new house as the old ! 



THE POET'S TALISMAN. 

What is the poet's talisman, 
That bears him safe through scorn and slight and tears, 
Content to walk with empty hand, and name 

Unknown, while he shall live, to fame? 
This the sweet dream that turns to hope his fears, — 

" The thought that is born in a moment 

May live for a thousand years ! 

Ah ! if by me were wrought, 

Perchance, some deathless thought, 
Oh, that were worth all scorn, all slight, all tears ! ' ' 



33 



THE CRITIC. 

Knight-errant he, who, with his skilled right hand 
Grasping that potent lance, his trusty pen, 
Rises and slays the dragon Dull-Content, 
Whose poison breath creeps subtly over men, 
Stealing their strength and steeping them in sloth, 
Which they to leave are oftentimes so loath, 
They turn to rend this knight who bids them fare 
To safer heights and purer, keener air. 



34 



EXAMPLE. 

(From the Apocryphal Gospel of St. Bartholomew.) 

If thy neighbor fall in sin, 
Half the guilt is thine, no less. 
Hadst thou shown of holiness 
All the beauty dwells therein, 
Then his fault had never been. 



35 



LES DEUX AM ANTS. (THE TWO LOVERS.) 

Once lived a king in Normandie, 
Who had a daughter fair to see, 

The apple of his eye ; 
And lest some suitor should arrive 
Of her young heart him to deprive, 

This test he did apply : 

That none might wed the lady fair 
Unless her sweet form he could bear 

Up yonder mountain height, 
Without a pause for rest or breath ; 
Wherein did fail, the tale so saith, 

Full many a luckless wight. 

A certain baron had a son, 

A youth right good to look upon, 

And brave as he was fair, 
Who long had loved the lady bright, 
But hid his love from all men's sight, 

To tell it did not dare. 

The princess loved the youth right well, 
And once upon a day it fell 

Their love they did confess. 
And long in secret they did love, 
Nor hoped the king's proud heart to move, 

That he their lives might bless. 
36 



LES DEUX AM A NTS. 

At last the youth despairing cried, 
" Come, sweetest lady, with me ride 

To some far distant land, 
Where we may wed, nor fear the ire 
Of thy proud, jealous-hearted sire, 

And aye walk hand in hand." 

" Nay, dearest youth," she cried, " I love 
'Ihee, as thou know'st, all else above, 

But thus it may not be, 
For my fond father's heart would break 
Did I his roof-tree thus forsake 

To follow after thee. 

"But go thou to mine aunt who lives 
At far Salerno, and who gives 

Her days to studies deep : 
All herbs, all simples knoweth she, 
And learned is in chemistry, 

All potions she can steep. 

" Go thou to her, and she will brew 
Such cordials as shall strength renew 

Beyond thy wildest dream, 
And with thee send some philter back 
To stay thee on thine upward track, 

If thou to fail shouldst seem : 

"For when thou art returned again, 
Thou shalt attempt, as other men, 
To bear me up yon height. 
4 



37 



38 LES DEUX AM ANTS. 

But ah ! thou wilt not fail, I wot, 
For, seest thou ? I loved them not ! 
Love, love shall make me light." 

" Ah me!" the youth in rapture cried, 
" How shall I tear me from thy side, 

When thou dost speak thus sweet ? 
I seem to live but near thy voice ! 
My brimming heart would e'en rejoice 

To die here at thy feet ! 

" But thou hast laid command on me, 
My lady liege, and it shall be 

As thou hast even said ; 
And know, if thou henceforth my face 
Shouldst never see in any place, 

I love thee, living, dead !" 

So as the princess bade did he, 
And sped to far off Italy, 

And at Salerno stayed 
Until the learned lady's skill 
His frame with wondrous strength did fill, 

As if anew 'twere made. 



And ere he wended back to France, 

She said, " Young sir, if it should chance 

Thy strength should fail thee when 
Most need thou hast of it, this drink, 
And, though thou ready art to sink, 

Thou shalt revive again." 



LES DEUX AMANTS. 39 

The lovers met not till the hour 

That was to test the young knight's power : 

The king and all his men 
Were gathered on a vast plain where 
The mountain lifts its head in air, 

Near to the banks of Seine. 

The princess waited trembling there, 
Her little feet and white arms bare, 

Her gleaming hair unbound, 
In one small, soft, white garment clad, 
All else that might to her weight add 

Was cast upon the ground. 

They marvelled she should seem so frail ; 
They knew not, lest her knight should fail, 

That she had fasted much, — 
That she might lighter grow to be, 
While he was in far Italy 

Scarce food or drink did touch. 



Trembling the knight drew near and laid 
His arms about her, half afraid 

To compass so much bliss, 
For never had he dared do more 
Than on her hand to lay, before, 

A soft and tender kiss. 

He felt a joy so deep, so great, 
He staggered 'neath her slender weight, 
Whereat she whispered low, — 



40 LES DEUX AM ANTS. 

Her soft arms winding closer still, — 
: . " Dear love, I shall but work thee ill, 
Cease thou, and let me go." 

11 Nay, nay, 'twas joy that made me reel, 
Thine arms about me thus to feel ! 

I fear not yonder height. 
Henceforth no more shall we two part, 
Rest thou in peace upon my heart, 

Love maketh burdens light." 

When half the way had been o'erpast, 
She felt him falter. " Quick ! thou hast 

The philter with thee, drink !" 
" Nay, nay, the watchers there below 
Would see me pause to drink, and so 

That I did fail would think. 

" I ne'er have felt so strong as now, 
Love lends me aid, and do but thou 

Hark how my heart throbs fast ! 
'Tis love for thee ! no fear have I 
But I shall reach yon summit high 

And claim thee mine at last ! ' ' 

So saying, faster still he strode 

The summit reached, and with his load 

Sank prone upon the grass. 
" Dear youth, how weary thou must be !" 
She cried, " Look up and speak to me !" 

No word his lips did pass. 



LES DEUX AMANTS. 41 

She listened for his heart's quick beat. 
No sound ! " 'Tis I who call thee, sweet, 

Dost thou not hear my voice?" 
But even as she spoke she knew 
No more those eyes of azure hue 

Would at her smile rejoice. 

Then frenzy seized upon her soul, 
To think that he upon the goal 

Of all his hopes should die. 
She staggered to her feet and drew 
The phial from his hand and threw 

On it her wild, set eye. 

" Life ! Life !" she muttered, " thou wert here, 
Within his very grasp ! so near, 

Yet Death hath beaten thee ! 
O philter, hateful art thou grown ! 
Since thou hast failed to save my own, 

Thou dost but mock at me ! ' ' 



She dashed the philter to the ground, 
And pouring all her soul in sound, 

One last despairing cry, 
She threw herself upon his breast, 
And when the courtiers came in quest, 

Thus, lifeless, they did lie. 

And so the youth fulfilled the test, 
And bore his lady without rest 
Or pause to gather breath, 

4* 



42 LES DEUX A MA NTS. 

Unto the mountain's distant height ; 

As he had sworn, so did the knight, 

And claimed her his — in death. 

A fair white tomb the king did build 
Upon the spot ; and where was spilled 

The philter o'er the grass, 
Grew herbs the peasants gather still 
And deem a cure for every ill 

Doth mortal frame harass. 

If thou shouldst wend to Normandie, 
Still mightest thou this mountain see, 

The same as in that day : 
" Les Deux Amants" is still its name, 
Preserving aye the lovers' fame, 

So saith an old, old lay. 



ENNUI. 

When from the soul arises 

A vague, dull cry 
We may not wholly stifle, 

Though we try, — 
A cry for what has never been 
Or is gone by, — 
Then comes the restless craving to go forth 
And wander far and wide across the earth, 
To look upon strange faces, 

View strange lands, 
To see works wrought in days of old 

By vanished hands, 
To muse upon the buried past 
By storied strands, 
Deeming that change will ease the vague, dull pain, 
Whose meaning to ourselves is scarcely plain. 

Yet, with the very wish itself 

There comes the thought, 
" Might not contentment even there 

In vain be sought ? 
Within the borders of those lands 
Could I find aught 
I find not here ? Would all not be the same, 
Except that things might bear another name? 
A glimpse of earth, a glimpse of sky, 
And human faces, 

43 



44 ENNUI. 

Those cries of joy and woe the same 

Throughout earth's places, 
The truth that all things pass away 
And leave no traces — 
Could I find more?" And still we cry again 
For something that shall ease this vague, dull pain. 



QUAKERESS RUTH. 

'Twas more than a hundred years ago 
That a gallant, gay, young Huguenot 
Who had served our cause with Lafayette, 
Rode clattering down the quiet street 
Of a little town of Maryland 
That nestled demurely close at hand 
To the good old city of Baltimore, 
But quite beyond its din and roar. 
Gay was his dress, his powdered hair 
Was tied behind with a deal of care, 
His red lips smiled, his dark eyes glowed 
As through the village swift he rode ; 
For why should he pause or linger there, 
A cavalier so debonair ? 
Yet mark what tricks dame Fate can play, 
For she decreed that from that day 
The quiet place should seem to him 
The central spot upon earth's rim. 

From her open window Quakeress Ruth, 
Fair with the beauty of early youth, 
Leaned forth to pluck the rose that grew 
Until it near her casement drew, 
And which was the fairer 'twere hard to say, 
The rose or the maid that bright June day. 
Her friend stood smiling by her there, 
Two Quaker lasses in whose air 

45 



46 QUAKERESS RUTH. 

Sweet girlish gayety half hid 

The folds of their prim garb amid ; 

And the little lapse 'twixt mien and dress 

Lent a subtle charm, I more than guess. 

The friend of Ruth looked out below 

And saw the gallant Mathiot. 

" Look, Ruth !" she cried, "and thou shalt see 

One fit to be a mate for thee ! 

Yea, he who down the street doth ride 

Shall one day claim thee for his bride." 

Ruth looked, and laughed to think that she 

Should wed so gay an one as he ; 

She of the Quaker garb and speech, 

And placid ways the good Friends teach ; 

He of the court, the camp, the town ; 

And so she laughed as she looked down, 

A laugh that sealed two fates that day, 

For as she laughs he looks her way, 

And sees her standing fresh and fair, 

Framed by the rose-wreathed casement there ; 

Her white hand grasps a whiter rose, 

Her bright eye smiles, her round cheek glows, 

Her soft and dimpled little chin 

Nestles the snowy kerchief in ; 

And as she laughs, the mellow peal 

Straight to the young man's heart doth steal. 



One lingering look he gave the maid, 
Then onward rode until he stayed 
His steed the public- house beside, 
And there the friendly landlord plied 



QUAKERESS RUTH. 

With questions : " Who lives there, canst tell? 

And who, I pray thee, is la belle, 

The maid I saw as I passed by, 

Standing her open window nigh?" 

' • Why, yonder lives good Friend Davies, 

Who is our justice of the peace ; 

And she of whom thou dost inquire 

Is daughter to our worthy squire, 

Fair Quakeress Ruth, who steals the hearts 

Of half the gallants in these parts." 



The bold young soldier asked no more, 

But turned his steed and reached the door 

Of Squire Davies in briefest space, 

And there, with him brought face to face, 

It took the youth scant time to tell 

Of his swift passion for la belle, 

To pray her father for the right 

To woo and win her if he might. 

The Quaker, dazed, and all unused 

To such bold wooing, half amused, 

Made answer, with a twinkling eye 

Which gave his sober face the lie, 

" Friend, thou shalt have my daughter Ruth 

When thou art one of us in truth, 

When thou shalt doff thy gay attire, 

And don the sober dress we wear, 

When thou shalt use our form of speech, 

And thine the faith the Quakers teach." 

So spake the squire, and doubted not 

To chill the lover on the spot. 



47 



48 QUAKERESS RUTH. 

The youth said naught, and, bowing low, 

Made haste to mount his steed and go. 

That night there came a thundering knock, 

And when they turned the ponderous lock, 

1 here stood, it seemed, a Quaker youth, 

But doubt not the bright eyes of Ruth 

Were quick to see and recognize 

The cavalier 'neath his disguise. 

We are not told how her young heart 

Beat high, nor how she stood apart, 

Her blushes mounting but to fade, 

Half shyly pleased and half afraid, 

But then we know cela va sans dire, 

As might have said the cavalier. 

Lifting his broad hat from his head, 

Advancing, soberly, he said, 

" Friend, I have done as thou didst say, 

This garb adopt I from to-day, 

And for thy language, be it known, 

'Tis as the tu toi of mine own, 

No need to change my form of speech, 

And for thy faith, Friend Ruth shall teach 

Me that, if I may, on my part, 

Teach her to read and know my heart, 

And one day in her heart instil 

Reflex of what mine own dolh fill." 

What could be said to one who wooed 

In such a warm, determined mood ? 

Of course he stayed, and won her too, 

As such as he was sure to do, 

For we are told, within a year 

Ruth wed the whilom cavalier, 



QUAKERESS RUTH. 49 

And he remained through all his days 
Wed to the Quaker faith and ways. 

Is there a moral to the tale ? 
Assuredly. One cannot fail 
To read between the lines that she 
Who laughs may win the future he, 
For we shall never know the half 
That has been done by woman's laugh. 
'Tis far more potent than your tears, 
Be very sure of that, my dears. 



RENOUNCEMENT. 

Dearest, look deeper down mine eyes, 
And tell me if within them lies 

One thought that is not thine. 
And while I lean against thy heart, 
Tell me thou know'st there is no part 

Beats not for thee, of mine. 

And yet I bear to let thee go ? 
Ah ! not my fault it should be so, 

Blame thou our cruel fate. 
Thy duties beckon thee one way, 
Mine will not let me near thee stay: 

We met, we loved too late. 

Not love thee, since I let thee go ? ' 
A man's reproach, — it is not so, 

I prove my love in this :■ 
I will not add one lightest share 
To all thy weight of toil and care, 

Yet want with thee were bliss. 

Fain on thy deep love would I rest, 
Forever and supremely blest, 

But that I fear one day 
With looks of scorn our eyes might meet, 
Because we knew it weak, though sweet, 

To take our selfish way. 
5o 



RENO UNCEMENT. 

Ah ! death were better than the loss 
Of all that frees our love from dross 

And makes it purest gold ! 
Never to see thy face again, 
To me it were a lesser pain 

Than that it should grow cold ! 

So, dear, while I shall breathe and live, 
Thine all the love I have to give, 

Should life end soon or late. 
This first, last, lingering farewell kiss 
Is all I e'er shall know of bliss, 

My love ! my life ! my fate ! 



5* 



THE POET'S PARADISE. 

(Read before the "Shakespeare Club of New York City," April, 
1893, on the occasion of the annual celebration of Shakespeare's 
birthday.) 

Ah ! is there not, beyond the world's wide rim, 
Some golden, glorious Sunset Land wherein 
Are gathered all great poets who have been 
And are no more? They who have left the earth 
More wise, more kind, more joyous for their birth ? 

Do they not walk in sweet communion there ? 
Telling, in rhythmic accents soft and low, 
How some great song was written long ago, 
How all its laughter and its tears were wrung 
Straight from his heart by whom the song was sung? 

Where he was faring when, on such a day, 
A thought came to him — such a little thought, — 
Which grew and grew until a song was wrought 
Which rang, to his amaze, the whole world round, 
So sweet, so true, so tender was its sound ? 

There doth not Petrarch of his Laura speak? 
And Dante of fair Beatrice tell ? 
And all, in turn, of some dear damosel 
Whose name the trembling lips can scarce disclose ? 
There vie they not in lavish praise of those 
52 



THE POET'S PARADISE. 



53 



Who all their sweetest strains did once inspire? 
Who stirred their deepest thoughts, until the heart 
Must break unless through eager lips apart 
The praise might sound of those rare ones who were 
At once their hopeless hope, their dear despair? 

Or, walk they not in sweeter silence there? 
Soul to soul speaking with no need of word, 
The poet-heart to keenest prescience stirred 
By that fine sympathy that readeth well 
All, and yet more, than lips may ever tell ? 

And hath not each a shining retinue 
Of glorious shapes, the offspring of his brain ? 
Without that ever-present, shadowy train 
Adown the ages he would walk unknown, — 
As real as he his progeny are grown. 

And if, perchance, one gained admittance there, 

On sufferance, as having sought with pain 

And tears to tread the poet's path, in vain, 

What joy to greet those bright shapes that have filled 

Our quiet hours, and our keen sorrows stilled ! 

What bliss to wander through that glorious land, 
Aglow with all the flowers of poesy, 
Pulsing with strains of sweetest minstrelsy, 
Until forth from the kindled soul should spring 
The songs that here it strove in vain to sing ! 

Ah ! how my heart would throb and then stand still, 
If I should chance to meet him face to face, 
He who by right were lord of that fair place, 
5* 



54 THE POET'S PARADISE. 

Surrounded by a vast and varied throng, 
The sad and joyous creatures of his song ! 

Then to my knees I sure would straightway fall, 
And, lifting up my streaming eyes to his, 
Cry, " Master mine, oh, take it not amiss 
That I have ventured into this domain, 
Thy footprints did allure me o'er the plain ! 

" I knew that thou wert here and so I came. 
I pray thou wilt not me as strange entreat ! 
Long have I humbly worshipped at thy feet, 
And sought behind thy sphinx-like mask to scan 
And know thee both as poet and as man. 

" But, ah ! thy moods were many, as is meet 
In one whom April claims her dearest child, 
And never could I guess if thou wert mild 
Or stern, or gay or grave, or all in turn, 
Yet oft to read the secret I did yearn. 

" No day of mine there was thou didst not bless, 
Broaden and lighten, 'till through thee I knew 
To understand the saint and sinner too. 
To thee I turned, were life too gay, too sad, 
And thou, by turns, couldst make me grieved or glad. 

" I knew I had no thought thou hadst not thought, 

I knew I had no mood thou hadst not shared, 

I knew I had no fault thou hadst not bared, 

And therefore claimed thee for my soul's close friend. 

O master, from thy side do not me send !" 



THE POET'S PARADISE. 55 

Then that great heart would sure respond to mine, 
Saying, " Ah well, do thou arise, remain ! 
Dearer the poet holdeth this than gain 
Or praise of men, this heartfelt love of thine, — 
The best reward of labors such as mine. 

" Stay, thou poor one who strove in vain to sing ! 
Much may be pardoned thee because 'twas love 
Allured where thou shouldst ne'er have dared to rove. 
Pardoned thou art through these thy tear- dimmed 

eyes ! 
Enter, poor bard, the Poet's Paradise !" 

Ah ! surely somewhere lies this Sunset Land, 
The glory of whose skies shall never fade, 
Shedding their rose and amethystine shade 
Forever on the brows of those who there 
The dear-bought laurels of the poet wear ! 

And shall not we who hold the poets dear — 
And dearest him whose birth we celebrate — 
Gain entrance where those lords of song keep state ? 
Since paradise for us could never be 
That held nor poet nor sweet minstrelsy ! 



THE RIVER OF THE DEAD. 

Thus a Persian legend saith : 
" When thou mourn' st a loved one's death, 
All thy tears do downward go 
To those darksome streams which flow 
Through the Country of the Dead. 

" Here they swell the bitter tide 
Which doth ever mournful glide, 
Bearing to the dead ye love 
All the tears ye shed above, 

Weighting them with woes of thine." 

Oh, lest thou perchance mayst know, 
I must, then, forget my woe ! 
All my days thy care has blest, 
Well I know thou couldst not rest 
If disturbed by tears of mine. 

Let me think, if thou canst feel, 
Through thy rest my joys do steal ; 
If I smile when peace is deep, 
That thou smilest too, in sleep, 
Knowing it is well with me. 



56 



THE STEED OF CAMBUSCAN. 

I sit among my kindred, the fireside anear, 

I know not what they say, I neither see nor hear ; 

Forth through night and distance my soul to thee has 

fled, 
While I sit here with clasped hands and drooping head. 
Had I that magic steed by Cambuscan bestrode, 
He should unused stand all day long in my abode, 
But when came silent night, one whisper in his ear, 
One little name which I and he alone might hear, 
And then away ! away ! o'er mountain and o'er lake, 
O'er vale and hill and forest our way would we betake, 
Until within thy dwelling my winged steed found rest, 
And I found peace and joy once more, safe sheltered 

on thy breast. 
And ere the lark's sweet song uprose, back through the 

fading night, 
'Neath paling stars and waning moon my steed should 

take his flight, 
And bear me swiftly, silently once more to my abode 
Where none might guess that I by night the magic steed 

bestrode. 
Then could I live through dull, blank days, and find 

their cares but light, 
For I should know when day was done to thee I might 

take flight. 



57 



AN OLD-TIME LOVER. 

'Tis a quaint little story of other days, 
Of other manners and other ways, 
When speech was formal and bows were low, 
And the favorite dance was the minuet slow, — 
When men were all chivalrous, dames all fair, 
And fashion decreed that each head of hair 
Should be used as a powder-magazine, — 
When the furbelow's gorgeous satin sheen 
Vied with the small-clothes' velvet bloom, — 
When fans swept a sweet or a doleful doom 
To the beaux who trifled, snuff-box in hand, 
As they made their speeches fine and bland. 
Ah ! those were the days when Love awoke 
At a moment's notice, — a few words spoke 
In softest tones, or a sigh breathed deep 
Were enough to waken him from sleep, — 
Or even a glance from an eye o.'er-bright, 
For indeed his sleep was extremely light ; 
He slumbers in these degenerate days 
So deep even Beauty's most brilliant rays 
Oft fail to arouse him, and what is more, 
He has even, they say, been heard to snore 
Through a tender speech, and I've been told 
But one thing stirs him, the chink of gold. 

Oh, where are the lovers like young George Blow, 
Who loved nigh a century ago ! 
58 



AN OLD-TIME LOVER. 59 

Virginia's daughters were blithe and fair, 

Virginia's sons they were debonair, 

But none were blither, more fair than she, 

And none were more debonair than he. 

He was a youngster of scarce nineteen, 

And the well-beloved maid had seen 

Some fourteen summers and winters brief, 

When Cupid, the arrant little thief, 

Stole both of the youthful hearts away, 

But repented the deed the self-same day, 

And returned his plunder, — alack ! alack ! 

He mistook the hearts as he brought them back, 

And the maiden the young man's heart possessed 

While hers was locked in his manly breast. 

The exchange was made where the shadow falls 

From William and Mary's hoary walls, 

For Cupid haunts e'en the classic shades 

As well as the rural glens and glades, 

And indeed his praises have formed the theme 

Of many a budding Academe. 

He was a student and she a belle 

When the love was born whereof I tell. 

Who shall paint all the rapturous bliss 

Of the youthful pair's first trembling kiss? 

'Tis a task beyond my powers, I own, — 

Two fresh young hearts that have never known 

The quickening thrill of love before, 

And feel it now to the being's core ; 

Two fancies veiling all ugly truth 

With the sweet illusions of hope and youth, — 

Ah, no ! 'tis a theme of Arcadie, 

Unmeet for a worldling like to me. 



60 AN OLD-TIME LOVER. 

Now the rumor flew fast to the young man's home, 

And his father at once made haste to come 

And learn its truth and berate his son, 

And forbid his marriage till twenty-one. 

" Forthwith to the country you shall go !" 

Quoth the irate father, good Richard Blow ; 

" In silence and solitude, far from hence, 

You'll recover, I fancy, your common sense ; 

You shall chase the deer and follow the hounds, 

And, I venture, forget the lady. Zounds ! 

You're in desperate haste, sir, to try your wings, 

Before you are well out of leading-strings !" 

Young George said nothing, and, bowing low, 

Like a dutiful son he turned to go ; 

But love and pain were too strong for him, 

And he paused on the threshold, with young eyes dim, 

To answer, " I hear, sir, and I obey : 

I go, but not to forget ! '1 he day 

My term of waiting expires, I wed 

My fair young sweetheart, as I have said ; 

Yes, sure as the shining of yonder sun, 

I shall marry as soon as I'm twenty-one !" 

The father smiled sagely, he thought he knew 

In matters like this just a thing or two, 

And the son departed with lengthened face, 

Exiled to his father's country-place, 

But not before, we may be quite sure, 

He had bidden the lady fair endure 

All things for him, and to patient wait 

And help him conquer their adverse fate, 

For her friends, in truth, like his own, were loath 

That these callow fledglings should plight there troth. 



AN OLD-TIME LOVER. 61 

'Twas a quiet spot 'mid the pine woods vast 

Where his lonely lot was henceforth cast ; 

He followed the hounds and he chased the deer, 

But the time of waiting seemed long and drear, 

And every day when the sun was nigh 

To his time of setting, young George would cry, 

As he doffed his hat, bowing long and low, 

" O Sun ! wherefore is thy course so slow ? 

And yet I thank thee to-night, O Sun ! 

I am one day nearer to twenty-one !" 

'Tis a pretty picture, now, is it not? 

The crimsoning sky, the quiet spot, 

The fond young lover when day was gone 

Resting his every thought upon 

His absent love, while he turned his face 

To the glowing west, and with courtly grace 

Gave thanks to the slowly sinking sun 

That another long, long day was done. 



Of course it conquered, such constancy, 
And of course he wedded the faithful she 
As soon as he entered on man's estate, 
For none could persuade him to longer w r ait. 
And I love to fancy just how one day 
They drove from her father's house away, 
Towards set of sun, in a coach and four, 
And how he presently opened the door, 
With naught but the woods and the fields in sight, 
And tenderly bidding the bride alight, 
And taking her hand and bowing him low, 
He cried, " O Sun ! henceforth move slow ! 
6 



62 AN OLD-TIME LOVER. 

For the days will be ever too short for me 
At the side of this lady who smiles on thee ! 
For at last, at last I am twenty-one, 
And together, together we thank thee, Sun !" 

O where are the lovers like young George Blow, 
Who loved nigh a century ago ! 
Perhaps they're too wise now to love in haste, 
Or to show it plainly is deemed bad taste. 
But I feel quite certain that it would out 
If they loved like the lover I tell about. 
Well, peradventure, a century hence 
Some bard will arise in their defence. 



SUMMER TWILIGHT. 

Still in the west flares up a feeble flame 

From out the fiery ashes of the day, 
A few faint stars begin to blink and peep, 
But, drowsy still from their deep day-time sleep, 

Nature's night-watch would fain a bit delay. 

The Titan who from 'neath the earth's far rim 
With mighty hands upheaves the fair, round moon, 
Slumbers and gathers strength to send on high 
His argent plaything o'er the darkening sky, 
And, slumbering, murmurs, "It is yet too soon." 

The city's sounds seem dim and far away 
As sounds that sift through hearing into dreams ; 
A sweet wind murmurs softly in my ear, 
Mysterious, strange, and sad the things I hear, 
With sorrows of a world the whisper teems. 

Each blade and herb is shedding thankful tears 

After the fiery trial of the day, 

And each is sending upward through the air 
A faint, sweet incense, and, as if in prayer, 

Each head is drooping o'er the moistened clay. 

The little birds are silent in the eaves 
Save for the chirp of some belated one, 
The cricket's song is faint and distant still, 
And through the orchard-grass upon the hill 
The fire-flies' lamps to blaze have just begun. 

6; 



64 SUMMER TWILIGHT. 

A soft, gray haze enwraps me round and round, 
And shuts me in a world apart, where none 

Save those dark bats which whirl and wheel amain, 
And those dark thoughts which flit within my brain, 
Alone can reach me when the day is done. 



HEROINES UNSUNG. 

Ah ! how it thrills us to the very core 
To hear how one, in some great, sudden need, 
Hath yielded up her life, nor grudged the deed. 
"How fine ! how noble !" envious, half, we cry, 
And deem in such a cause 'twere blest to die. 

Yet, modest, down the quiet paths of life 

Walk heroines who merit no less praise, 

Who give themselves through endless rounds of days, 

Who slowly cede youth, beauty, health, and strength, 

Until poor self a bankrupt is at length. 

Ah ! easier far to yield up all one hath, 
In one brief pang, so swift 'tis scarcely felt, 
Than one by one to see life's treasures melt, 
Dear joys given o'er with sad, averted eyes, 
For those who dream not of the sacrifice ! 



6* 65 



GUNHILDA, EMPRESS OF ROME. 

She was the sister of the king ; 
All England held no fairer thing, 

That land of flower faces ; 
Her sweet face gleamed with radiance white 
Like lilies pure that softly light 

The garden's shady places. 

And, like the lilies crowned with gold, 
Her little head could scarce uphold 

Its wealth of shining tresses, 
And when she spake 'twas low and sweet 
As when the lily's breath doth greet 

The sense with soft caresses. 

She moved so soft, she spake so fair, 
So gracious was her gentle air 

That pride alone seemed wanting, 
Yet hers was womanhood's high pride 
That makes the other pale beside, 

Its purer lineage vaunting. 

Suitors they came from near and far, 
Noble and prince and emperor ; 

But all in vain they sued her, 
And never did her heart succumb 
'Till Henry, Emperor of Rome, 

Beheld and loved and wooed her. 
66 



GUNHILDA, EMPRESS OF ROME. 67 

She sat on high all clothed in white 
When first she burst upon his sight 

In all her matchless fairness, 
And his dark beauty sent a blush 
Across her cheeks, whereon the flush 

Was lovelier for its rareness. 



His dark eyes hold her azure ones 
As when the quivering lightning stuns 

And briefly paralyzes, 
And love is born amid the shock, 
And loudly at their hearts doth knock, 

Wherein swift tumult rises. 

" O island lily !" so he spake 
Below his breath, ' ' I sure shall take 

Thee hence and safe transplant thee ; 
This glowing climate of my breast 
Shall warm and shield thee, I protest, 

Do thou but one smile grant me !" 

Hardicanute, her brother, smiled 
Upon the wooing, and beguiled 

The time with merry living ; 
Gunhilda loved, but still would fain 
The value of the gift maintain 

By slowness in the giving. 

And when at length the nuptials fell, 
Unto this day no bard may tell 
With justness of the splendor, 



68 GUNHILDA, EMPRESS OF ROME. 

The gold and silver, jewels rare, 
The silks, the steeds beyond compare 
Both king and people sent her. 

Long was the journey to her home 
In that far, splendid city, Rome, 

Wherein this island flower 
Was honored, cherished, and beloved 
'Till fairer she than when removed 

From her chill northland bower. 

But hath not ev'ry flow' ret fair 
Some wanton enemy whose care 

In secret is to blast it ? 
Lo ! crept a dastard to her lord, 
And from his lip there fell a word 

That never should have passed it : 

" Faithless thy empress is, O sire ! 
Thy pure north-flower through the mire 

Hath stooped to drag her beauty ; 
And we who know it to be truth, 
We tell it thee because, in sooth, 

We deem it is our duty." 

The emperor, in jealous rage, 
Past tiring-woman and past page 

Rushed madly to the empress, 
Crying, " O woman, now I know 
Thou art not as thine outward show, 

Thou'rt but a wanton temptress ! 



GUNH1LDA, EMPRESS OF ROME. 69 

" Thou shalt not live ! it were a crime 
To lengthen out thy worthless time ! 

Thy life myself will take it !" 
But something in the lady's look 
His cruel resolution shook, 

Half minded he to break it. 



White-robed and crowned with shining hair, 
Her milky throat and soft arms bare, 

She sat at twilight musing ; 
Her thoughts were of her one, one love, 
Her dear, dark lord, all else above, 

The husband of her choosing. 

And in the soft, gray twilight dim 
She started up to welcome him 

With little cries of gladness, 
Her blue eyes filled with love's sweet light, 
Out-stretched to him her round arms white, 

Unwitting of his madness. 



But as she saw his cruel look, 

The meaning of his words she took, 

And of the sword uplifted, 
And, pausing midway, on her breast 
An icy something seemed to rest 

As when chill snows are drifted. 

No word she spake, but she who knew 
No idle pride her slight form drew 
To greater height, and standing 



70 GUNHILDA, EMPRESS OF ROME. 

A frozen figure of pale pride, 
She pointed to the portal wide 

With gesture stern, commanding. 

So lofty was her look and air, 
That he, even he the emperor, 

Was quelled, and, no word spoken. 
He turned and from her presence sped 
Upon his cheek a flush of red, 

Her silence still unbroken. 

It was a custom of the time 

That one who was accused of crime 

Should clear herself by duel 
Against the foul defamers who 
Upon her innocency threw 

Their accusations cruel. 



Gunhilda's enemy was one 
Of such gigantic stature, none 

Of all the knights and squires 
Who came with her their lot to cast 
Dared cope with him who strove to blast 

Her fame with hate's fierce fires. 

At last, a little page who came 
From England in her train felt shame 

That none should clear his lady, 
Whose innocence all men should know, 
So good, so gracious she, and so 

Himself her champion made he. 



GUNHILDA, EMPRESS OF ROME. 

He was so brief a bit of man, 

In jest he was called " Mimecan," 

But well he loved his lady, 
And in her innocence he kept 
Such faith his heart indignant leapt, 

He could not well afraid be. 

Until her innocency's proof 
Amid the courtiers, yet aloof, 

Gunhilda walked all queenly ; 
It was as if a statue might 
Have clothed itself in floating white 

And midst them stood serenely, 

Unheeding what they said or did, 
The eye unseeing 'neath its lid, 

The lips of Parian paleness, 
And in the breast a frozen thing 
That nothing evermore might bring 

To life or warmth or haleness. 

And now r the day was come at last, 
And gathered was a concourse vast 

To view the fray unequal ; 
Serene the empress sat on high, 
As if with calm, foreseeing eye 

She knew before, the sequel. 

The little page upraised his sword 
And rushed the stately giant toward 
Amid derisive laughter, 



72 GUNHILDA, EMPRESS OF ROME. 

But lo ! the puny fellow drew 
His sword the giant's hamstring through, 
And cut his head off, after. 

Advancing at her soft command, 
He gave the head into her hand, 

Whereat she, rising slowly, 
With one proud look about, withdrew, 
Unheeding how the plaudits grew 

From highly born and lowly. 

With eager steps the emperor 
To her apartments followed her, 

And lowly sued for pardon, — 
" O love, canst thou forgive me, tell ? 
I did but love thee over- well, 

Do not thy soft heart harden !" 

She smiled a strange, slow, mirthless smile 
"Indeed, my lord, 'tis not worth while 

To say thou'st loved unduly ; 
Thou never lovedst me, in sooth, 
Thou'dst staked thy life upon my truth 

If thou hadst loved me truly, 

"As I for thee would fain have done 
Had thy fair fame been set upon, 

Though all the world misused thee ! 
But thou'st believed the first who came, 
The first who sought to smirch my fame, 

The first who hath accused me!" 



GUNHILDA, EMPRESS OF ROME. 73 

"Ah, sweet !" he cried, " dost thou not know 
It was because I loved thee so 

That I was fain to slay thee ? 
Without thy love I cannot live ! 
Oh, harden not thy heart, but give, 

Ah, give it back, I pray thee ! ' ' 

Slowly she reached and took the head, 
Saying, " I give thee this instead, — 

For one dead thing another : 
Dost thou not know when love is slain 
It may not come to life again 

For thee or any other !" 

With that she turned from him away, 
And ever from that fatal day 

Remained to love a stranger ; 
So meek she was, yet proud in this, 
She could not brook a lesser bliss 

That any chance might danger. 

And some will deem she never loved, 
But there be those will deem she proved 

She had but loved the truer ; 
Where one has loved with his whole heart, 
He cannot love with lesser part, 

And doubt is love's undoer. 



WOMAN THE ECHO. 

hapless Echo of the earlier time, 
Who didst pursue Narcissus everywhere, 

Thy heart high-beating, fit to break with love, 
Enchained by silence, since thou couldst not dare 
Do aught but shape thy speech upon his own, 
Which ne'er of love did tell, — may I not share 
Thy grief with thee ? for ah ! I too have known, 
Nay do I not, alas, still know 
The grief that did assail thee long ago ? 

Like thee I am a woman, and like thee 

1 love, with love deep buried in the heart. 
No word must tell of all the hope and fear, 
The joy, the pain, the bliss, the ceaseless smart ! 
For ah ! as in the olden time, to-day, 

Still must the woman, Echo, play thy part, — 
No word of love ere he that word shall say ! 
Perchance the sorry end to be 
That he, Narcissus-like, loves self, not thee. 



74 



TO THE NEW WOMAN. 

O woman with the earnest face, 
What'er thou gainest in the race, 

Hold fast to sweetness, 
The seal of womanly completeness. 
How if the rose did scentless spring, 
Think'st thou that form and coloring 

Could e'er endue her 
With that deep charm that draws us to her ? 
Let others tell thee to be strong, 
'Tis well, the race both hard and long, 
But thou, believe, shalt find at length 
In sweetness lies thy greatest strength. 



75 



A WOMAN'S PLACE. 

The beast hath place on earth, 

The bird in sky, 
The fish in sea, 

But I — what place have I ? 

No place a woman hath 

Who doth not fill 
Some human heart, 

And shape its good or ill. 

No empty heart, alas ! 

For me shall cry 
When wholly past 

This unguessed riddle "I." 

If, then, no blank I leave, 

What place had I ? 
Alas ! no place 

In earth, or sea, or sky ! 



76 



RENE CHASTAINE. 

Good Rene Chastaine 

Came over the main. 
Of Baptist faith was he, this son of France, 
And hoped upon Virginia soil perchance 
To find the right to worship God as he 
Thought fit, and have the precious liberty 

To preach the Word to all 

Upon whose ears his voice might fall. 

Many there were who heard, 

Many received the Word, 
Until the proud Established Church grew sore. 

And bade him preach no more. 

Good Rene Chastaine, 

Forbidden on pain 
Of prisonment to speak, yet faltered not, 
And so erelong it was his weary lot 
To languish in the jail of Chesterfield, 
But even here his spirit would not yield. 

He thrust his arms between 

The bars that closed the casement in, — 

Too eager he to wait 

The mending of his fate, — 
And lifting up his voice that all might hear, 

Proclaimed Christ far and near. 

7* 77 



78 RENE CHASTAINE. 

Good Rene Chastaine 

Appealed not in vain : 
The people came in throngs to hear one full 
Of courage high and faith unquenchable. 
Then said the pillars of the church, "Ye see 
He worketh greater havoc bond than free ; 

Let the dissenter go !" 

And forth good Rene fared, I trow 

In mood triumphant, and 

More able to command 
The hearts of men than he had been before 

The prison closed its door. 

Good Rene Chastaine, 
If ever again 
My weak will falters from its steadfast aim 
Because of obstacle, methinks thy name 
Shall rouse my sinking courage to its best, 
And I perchance wax stronger for the test, 
And reaching through the bars 
Of circumstance, toward the stars, 
Still seek, come joy or ruth, 
The thing I deem the truth, 
Knowing whatever bonds Life forge for me, 
My spirit still is free. 



LIFE'S TRAGEDY AND COMEDY. 

Life's tragedy is when from heart and brain 
Pours forth the warm, swift current of your best, — 

Thought's deepest flow, Love's highest flood, 

And beats itself against a mood 

Of careless, smiling, gay content, 
Too indolent 
To guess your soul's deep yearning and unrest. 

Life's comedy is when, the moods reversed, 

Smiling we sit, spectators of the play, 

Nor know, nor heed that what beguiles 
Our careless, absent, fleeting smiles, 
To one means all of good or ill. 
Self-centred still, 

We think because we laugh the world is gay. 



79 



APRIL SNOWS. 

Cold — where of late the tender grass was springing, 
And the brave crocus strove, the earth's embrace off- 
flinging — 
Cold lies the snow to-day in thin and scattered patches, 
And o'er the earth's brown face 
Of summer is no trace, 
No joyous spring-time sound the listening ear now 
catches. 

Yet shall the morrow's sun revive the weak young 

season. 
And thou, sore-stricken one, shouldst thou not there- 
fore reason 
That God's warm smile on thee shall rest, to melt thy 
sorrow, 

And hope's green blade shall spring, 
And life' s sweet song-birds sing, 
And summer in thy heart rewake some glad to-morrow ? 



80 



THOSE OTHER YEARS. 

Time, thou'st brought many goodly gifts to me, 
Gifts priceless, lovely and well-loved they be, 
Life, youth, love, friends, all things I hold most dear, 
But, ah ! thou dost recall them year by year ! 
Life still is mine, 'tis true, but, last of all, 
Thou wilt one day thine earliest gift recall. 
Youth thou art taking from me day by day, 
In vain do I petition thee to stay 
The hand thou layest on my cheek and brow 
To calm the pulses throbbing swift below. 
Love thou hast slain. Ah, me ! why shouldst thou be, 
As thou art ever, Love's worst enemy ? 
Old friends thou takest from me one by one, 
And there are none to fill their places, none ! 
New faces show for me their smiles and tears, 
Yet move me not like those of other years. 
I know thou wilt, as thou hast done of yore, 
Bring gifts again, but though thou shouldst outpour 
For me the things men prize, fame, fortune, all, 
I know full well thou never wilt recall 
The fresh young life that made all things a joy ; 
The roses thou art seeking to destroy ; 
The love that gave its all, a bounteous store, 
And wept to think that it could give no more ; 
The friendships that uplifted and gave wings 
To all life's small, unnoted, common things; — 
/ 8« 



82 THOSE OTHER YEARS. 

All these^ alas, thou never wilt restore ! 
And yet, ah would I not with joy give o'er 
All thou shalt to me in the future bring, 
For those loved voices that were wont to ring 
So sweetly in mine ears in other days, 
For those kind eyes that kept their warmest rays 
For me, or let their saddest tear-drops fall 
O'er woes of mine ! O Time, do thou keep all 
Thou hast of precious gifts reserved for me, 
I care not though they rich and many be, 
But give, oh, give me back those other years, 
Those other faces, other smiles and tears ! 



THE BRAVE TAPER-BEARER. 

Once, on the day of Pentecost, 
King Sigurd's soul was tempest tossed 
By one of those wild bursts of pain 
That clouded now and then his brain. 
With lowering features sat he there, 
While in his hands he held a fair 
And precious Book which he had brought 
From Eastern lands, the letters wrought 
Of shining gold. His gloomy look 
First turned he on the heavy Book, 
And then upon his sad eyed queen 
Who sat near by with patient mien. 
At length he scowled on her and said, 
" The years are long since we were wed. 
How things in one man's time may change ! 
When I in my good ship did range 
From Eastern shores towards these, I bore 
Two things which seemed to me far more 
In value than the store of gold 
And silver in the vessel's hold ; 
And one wast thou, my faded queen, 
And one this Book o'er which I lean. 
More worthless than the Book has grown 
One thing, O Malmfrid, one alone ! 
That one art thou ! ' ' and, saying so, 
He struck his faithful queen a blow 

§3 



84 THE BRAVE TAPER-BEARER. 

Upon her face, and threw the Book 
Upon the fire with hand that shook 
From sudden rage. Then swift upsprung 
A taper-bearer from among 
The serving-men who sat anear. 
Young Ottar Birting felt no fear 
As forth he stepped and snatched the Book 
From off the fire and straightway took 
It unto Sigurd's place and said, 
"Yea, changed the times, my lord, indeed, 
Since thy good ship to Norway sailed, 
And all thy waiting people hailed 
Thy near approach with joyous shout. 
But sorrow folds us now about, 
For all thy friends are gathered here 
To feast with thee and make good cheer, 
But glad and merry cannot be 
While this sad mood possesseth thee. 
Not in the queen is change, my lord, 
Nor in this precious written Word, 
But in thy heart ; for when men grow 
Away from good they once did know, 
Ofttimes they deem the change has been 
Without themselves and not within. 
Fair is queen Malmfrid as when she 
Followed thy fortunes o'er the sea, 
From summer lands with warm suns bright, 
To dwell 'neath our cold Northern Light. 
And dearer should she seem by far, 
Whose peace thou seekest thus to mar, 
For all the years she fond has loved 
Whilst thou her patience sore hast proved. 



THE BRAVE TAPER-BEARER. 85 

The words within this holy Book, 

Which thou dost view with scornful look, 

The same are still as when of yore 

O'er its gold letters thou didst pore, 

And to thy people read of One 

Who would not deeds like thine were done. 

Deign now, my lord, advice to take : 

By gentleness thy peace first make 

With Malmfrid, whom thou deep hast wronged, 

And then shall those about thee thronged 

Rejoice that Sigurd is again 

Himself, and fit to rule o'er men." 



"And darest thou me counsel give, 
Thou base-born wretch, and hope to live?" 
The king cried, while his sword he drew, 
And, furious, straight at Ottar flew. 
The people waited, one and all, 
To see young Ottar 1 s fair head fall 
From off his shoulders to the floor ; 
But he stood firmly as before, 
And calmly gazed upon the king, 
Who suddenly his sword did bring 
On Ottar' s shoulder softly down, 
And to the others, with a frown, 
He turned and said, " There is not one 
Among ye, liegemen, who hath done 
A thing so brave as this ! For shame 
To let thy king do, free from blame, 
Mad acts like mine ! I thank thee much, 
Young Ottar. 'Tis not fitting such 
8 



86 THE BRAVE TAPER-BEARER. 

Brave men as thou should have their seat 
Mid serving-men. I therefore greet 
Thee liegeman ! Thou art now the peer 
Of any of my soldiers here. 
For that so brave a deed thou'st done, 
No more shalt thou serve any one ! 
Since thou to speak the truth didst dare, 
Sword and not taper shalt thou bear ! ' ' 



LOVE AND DEATH. 

The whelming wave of darkness from the land 

Began at length to ebb and flow away, 
While still the battle raged 'twixt Sleep and Thought, 

And each by turns seemed victor in the fray ; 
Low hung a murky moon in misty skies, 

And cast a shadowy radiance where I lay ; 
The trees, that moaned and shivered through the night, 

Stood still to listen for the coming day. 
All night had I, with Memory hand in hand, 

Wandered adown the Past's pain-haunted path, 
Lined with sad spectres whose great eyes did seem 

More full of burning anguish than of wrath. 
In vain I strove to turn away from them, 

Poor ghosts of joys that might have been mine own ; 
They woke dull throbs of pain within a heart 

I had believed was cold and callous grown. 
A hush fell sudden o'er me, and I seemed 

To look and listen for I knew not what, 
While, slowing drifting 'twixt the moon and me, 

Mine eyes beheld a faint and formless blot, 
Which gathered shape and substance, 'till I saw 

Two forms regarding me ; and one I knew 
Full well ! too well ! those rosy, laughing lips, 

Those eyes, like night-skies, deep and dusky blue, 
Those soft, warm hands slow stretching forth to mine, — 

Yes, these, all these, alas, too well I knew ! 

87 



88 LOVE AND DEATH. 

For I had wandered hand in hand with Love 

Through one brief, glowing span of joyous days, 
And now it seemed again she beckoned me, 

And willed that I should follow in her ways. 
Soft welled these words from out her lips of rose : 
" Come thou once more with me, and thou shalt know 

Old joys again." She smiled divinely slow. 
I reached to twine my hand with hers, but lo ! 

The spectres of the past bent looks of woe 
Upon me, and it seemed they vainly strove 

With writhing lips to bid me not to go, 
And pointed shadowy fingers to the shape 

That stood anear the one I knew so well, 
As if to bid me rather that way turn. 

I turned, obedient, and my glances fell 
Upon a form I knew not, silent, dark, 

With sable wings that coldly swept my brow ; 
A mien majestic, face divinely calm, 

Whereon nor joy nor grief their lines might plough ; 
The lips nor smiled nor scorned, the eyes were grave, 

No word was uttered, stirred no sound or breath, 
Yet here, I knew, for me was lasting peace, 

And straightway stretched I forth my hand to Death ; 
Nor did I falter, for at length I knew 
Love would again my path with pain bestrew. 

Low hung a murky moon in misty skies, 
The trees stood still to listen for the day : 

Perchance I did but dream of Love and Death, 
Perchance they passed me near and fled away. 



THE LEGEND OF LACHRYM^ CHRISTI. 

Thus saith the legend, that when Paul was come 

Near to his journey's end, — fair, fatal Rome, — 

The ship cast anchor in the sheltering bay 

Of Puteoli, and therein did stay 

For seven whole days. And thus the captain said, 

" Our thanks we give to thee, for through the dread 

Of wind and wave and rock which late oppressed, 

Thou wert our stay. If now thou deemest best, 

Go, wise and worthy man, this soldier as thy guard, 

And view fair Naples, for I give my word 

'Tis well worth seeing. When the week is spent, 

See thou return' st, for then our sails are bent 

For mighty Rome, where thou shalt sure find shield 

In Caesar, unto whom thou hast appealed." 

Then gladly Paul set out upon his way, 

Along the shores of Naples' lovely bay, 

For he had heard that Jesus, as a youth, 

Had wandered there, had spoken oft, in truth, 

Of that fair scene which meets the traveller's eye 

When, turning, near Vesuvius' summit high, 

He gazes down o'er vale and hill and sea: 

So thitherward his footsteps first turned he, 

And, ever climbing, paused not till he stood 

Where he could view the scene his Lord had viewed. 

And as it burst upon his gladdened gaze, — - 

The far-off islets lost in humid haze, 

8* 89 



9 o THE LEGEND OF LACHRYMM CHRIST!. 

The softly-sighing sea, the silvery shore, 
The dim and distant hill-tops, wooded o'er 
With cypress, laurel, orange, olive, plane, 
The fertile fields where waved the wind-swept grain, 
The vineyards purpling 'neath the summer sun, — 
He lifted up his voice and cried, " The One 
Who made all this, doth He not here declare 
That bounteous goodness, wherein all men share?" 

Now, as he spake these words, he heard a sound, 

And, turning swift, an aged peasant found 

Close by his side, who pressed the way-worn man 

His hut to enter, and, when there, began 

To set before him fragrant fruits and wine. 

"Yea, they are very good, these fruits of thine," 

Said weary Paul, " but better far, methinks, 

This rich, life-giving wine." "Yea, he who drinks 

That wine," the peasant said, "can ne'er forget 

Its subtle flavor, like naught else, nor yet 

Another draught may find save on this mount. 

A story hangs thereon; I will recount 

It while ye rest and sup, if so ye will. 

'Tis wondrous strange ye sure will deem, and still 

I swear 'tis true. 

This many a year agone, 
Close to the very spot I found thee on, 
A lovely youth of gentle mien I met. 
Clad in the Hebrew garments was he, yet 
The stamp of kinghood was upon his brow, 
Which whiter gleamed than freshly fallen snow ; 
His silken locks like noon-tide sunbeams shone ; 
His eyes, the mildest I e'er looked upon, 



THE LEGEND OE LACHRYMM CHRIST/. 91 

Gazed forth upon the very scene which thou 

Wast praising when I met thee, even now. 

Like thee, he praised it, and his looks were filled 

With rapture ; sweeter than the juice distilled 

From fragrant flowers by patient, plodding bees, 

His voice was as he uttered words like these : 

1 Ah ! fair, most fair it is ! from highest Heaven 

Methinks this goodly bit of earth was riven, 

In that past time when powers of good and ill 

Still for the mastery struggled fierce, and still 

Made space re-echo with their battle-cries. ' 

He paused awhile, and then I saw his eyes 

Slow fill with tears, and now he spake again, 

In saddest tones, ' Alas ! alas that men 

Should fill this fairest spot with grief and sin !' 

For me, I almost thought my heart had been 

Riven in twain by that deep, tender tone, 

Where pity, grief, and love were merged in one. 

And yet, as when through falling drops we see 

An arch that tells of fairer skies to be, 

So, as the sun shone through those falling tears, 

I seemed to see the hope of better years. 

The strange part of my story is to tell : 

Just where the youth's great tears of pity fell, 

There soon began to grow a verdant vine 

Which bore the fruit from whence this wondrous wine 

Was erelong made which even now thou drink' st. 

Pray tell me, friends, if not with me thou think'st 

That I, in this poor, lowly hovel here 

Have entertained the son of Jupiter, 

E'en Bacchus, giver of the goodly wine?" 

" Yea," said the soldier, " my thought fits with thine." 



9 2 



THE LEGEND OF LACHRYMM CHRIST!. 



" Yea, verily," the good apostle said, 

In hushed and reverent tone, with low-bent head, 

" The Son of God ! right well indeed thou'st guessed ! 

Giver of wine, too, for a cup He blessed 

And to His people gave with this command, 

' Drink ye hereof, and let it ever stand 

In memory of the debt ye owe to me, 

And of the covenant 'twixt me and thee.' " 



"Then thou dost know of him?" "Yea, much," 

said Paul ; 
" If thou art willing I will tell thee all 
I know of Him and of His works." 

The host 
Consenting, Paul, as was his wont, made most 
Of each new hour to spread his Master's name. 
He told of that pure life, that death of shame 
Upon the cross, the waking from the dead, 
And all Christ's wondrous works, and then he said, 
" This is the work He left for me, to go 
Forth through the world and unto all men show 
How, if they leave their sins, the blood He shed 
Will blot out all the past, and they may tread 
The pathway of a clean and blameless life. 
Blest tidings to the soul that wages strife 
And fain would rise to higher things, but feels 
The past a burden under which he reels 
And faints and falls and may not rise again. 
His crucifixion showeth unto men 
How, if they follow in His blessed way, 
Self may be crucified with each new day, 



THE LEGEND OF LACHRYALE CHRIST J. 93 

While from the tombs of their slain selves they rise 
To that new, higher life which never dies." 

So was he speaking when the sun's warm light 

Went out through crimson portals into night ; 

And when the lamp was lighted in the room, 

And near him all were gathered in that home, 

Still spake he on, and ever breathlessly 

They listened to the words he said, while he 

Marked not the flight of time. When morning came, 

Before he left the mount, he in the name 

Of Christ had christened not his host alone, 

But all that peasant household, and his own 

Stern Roman guard. 

Still is this sparkling wine 
Pressed from the fragrant fruitage of the vine, 
On Mount Vesuvius, and still the name 
'Neath which the cup is tendered is the same, 
Lachrymtz Christi, "Tears of Christ," and he 
Who quaffs the cup, therein a wine shall see 
Pale and pellucid as the tears 'tis said 
Christ on Vesuvius' Mount in sorrow shed. 



THE COURAGE OF LIFE. 

Courage to look on coming years, 
Their slender hopes, their certain tears, 
With spirit still undaunted. 

Courage to see illusions fade, 
Thine idols fall that thou hast made, 
To be by memories haunted. 

Courage to see thyself grow old, 
Thy place usurped by the young and bold, 
Their strength before thee flaunted. 

Courage to face those dark, dark hours 
When doubt uprises and o'erpowers 
The faith that thou hast vaunted. 



94 



A FEW LYRICS AND SONNETS. 



95 



O WHITE, SWEET FLOWER OF PEACE. 

O white, sweet flower of peace, 
In what far country dost thou grow ? 

Ah me ! long hours I sought 
Thee where gay summer gardens glow 
With roses fair ; 
Alas ! thou wast not there, 
O white, sweet flower of peace ! 

O white, sweet flower of peace, 
I sought thee in a meadow deep, 
Where pleasure's poppies red 
The willing senses softly steep 
In drowsy air ; 
But never wast thou there, 
O white, sweet flower of peace ! 

O white, sweet flower of peace, 
I sought thee in a woodland still, 
Where all was gloom and hush ; 
But dews and damps my soul did chill, 
Sad was the air, 
And thou, thou wast not there, 
O white, sweet flower of peace ! 

O white, sweet flower of peace, 
I sought thee still in wistful dream ; 
e g 9 97 



98 O WHITE, SWEET FLOWER OF PEACE. 

And near a quiet grave, 
Low-blooming, there to me did. seem 

That thou didst dwell 

Beside the asphodel, 
O white, sweet flower of peace ! 



A LOVER'S BARGAIN. 

If all bright eyes that ever shone 

Looked sweetly into mine, 
I'd gladly shun them if I might 
But sun myself 'neath thine, dear love, 
But sun myself 'neath thine. 

If all red lips that ever smiled 

Were offered unto mine, 
I'd gladly pass them if I might 
But lay my lips on thine, dear love, 

But lay my lips on thine. 

If all white arms that ever twined 

Were held forth unto mine, 
I'd gladly flee them if I might 
But refuge seek in thine, dear love, 
But refuge seek in thine. 

Oh ! all the love that e'er has been 
Is naught compared with mine, 
Yet gladly will I barter it — 
In fair exchange for thine, dear love, 
In fair exchange for thine ! 



99 



HOW, WHEN, AND WHY. 

How came this love ? 
I cannot tell. 
Or if it grew as months rolled on, 
Or swift as light of sudden dawn 
It o'er me fell, 
I cannot tell. 
Thus much is clear, 

Howe'er it came, 
This love is here. 

When came this love? 
I cannot tell. 
Or if I mused at twilight gray, 
Or idly dreamed at heat of day 
When it befell, 
I cannot tell. 
Merged into one 

Are seasons, times 
Since love's begun. 

Why came this love ? 
I cannot tell. 
Or if the light of eyes divine, 
Or if the soul that answers mine 
First wove the spell, 

I cannot tell. 
I only know 

This love that came 
Can never go. 

IOO 



BLOW, SWEET WIND OF THE SPRING-TIME, 
BLOW ! 

Blow, blow, sweet wind of the spring-time, blow ! 

Blow through my straying hair ! 
My cloak of winter I loose to thee, 

And my head to thee I bare. 
Blow, blow through my being until I feel 
New life through my sluggish pulses steal. 

Blow, blow, sweet wind of the spring-time, blow ! 

Blow through my aching heart ! 
My soul I bare to thy healing touch, 

For the strength thou wilt impart. 
Blow, blow through my heart until no pain 
Be left to crash o'er its chords again. 



THE MOON-FLOWER. 

Moon-flower, through my casement peering 

Timidly, while wanes the light, 
Why hast thou thy pale face hidden 

All the day from human sight. 

Moon-flower, moon-flower silver-white ? 

Moon-flower, art thou some wan spirit 
Doomed to come forth with the night, 

Whilst by day thou art forbidden 
Gazing on the sun's warm light, 
Moon-flower, moon-flower silver- white ? 

Moon-flower, dost thou, rather, gladly 

Hide by day thy longing eye, 
Since thou mayst not then behold thy 

Lovely namesake of the sky, 

Moon-flower, moon-flower white and shy? 

Moon-flower, like a lily rocking 
On a lake of darkest green, 

Thou dost seem her face to mirror 
With thy disk of silver sheen, 
Moon-flower, moon-flower dimly seen. 

Moon -flower, lover of the moonbeam 
And the dews and hush of night, 

Breathing thy faint fragrance through the 
Gloom that hides thee half from sight, 
Moon-flower, moon-flower silver-white, 



THE MOON-FLOWER. 103 

Wouldst thou know the bond betwixt us ? — 
My heart shuns all glare and light, 

Opening, like thy snowy blossom, 
Widest in the hush of night, 
Moon-flower, moon-flower silver-white. 



O TENDER BUDS OF GREEN! 

O tender buds of green 

That fleck the branches o'er, 
Ye are sweet Nature's tears of joy 
That well forth when the long annoy 

Of winter is no more. 

O tender buds of green, 
How fast ye spread and grow ! 
Soon shall ye flutter in the breeze, 
Laughing and babbling to the world of trees, 
Nor heed that summers go. 

O tender buds of green, 

Sweeter the thankful rain 
Shed over grief and sorrow cured, 
Than laughter over bliss assured ; 

This is the joy of pain. 

So tender buds of green 
That come when frosts do go, 
Dearer by far ye are to me 
Than all the flaunting leaves that be 
When summer breezes blow. 



104 



HE KISSED MY HAND! 

He kissed my hand ! 
Touch light as air, 
And yet, ah, how it lingers there 

Where soft he kissed my hand ! 

He kissed my hand ! 
And where they fell 
His lips have left a magic spell, 

Where soft they touched my hand. 

He kissed my hand ! 
And left a spell 
That draws my lips to where his fell 

When soft he kissed my hand. 

He kissed my hand ! 
Ah ! 'tis not fair 
One kiss should draw so many there 

Where soft he kissed my hand. 

He kissed my hand ! 
He has forget, 
But I, ah ! I, alas, have not, 

That soft he kissed my hand. 



105 



THE ONE BRIGHT HOUR. 

Down in a gloomy nook, 
Near to a still, cold brook, 

Nestled a flower : 
Fell once a ray of light 
Full on that flower slight, 

For one bright hour. 

Wide oped the floweret then ; 
Ne'er fell the ray again 

With warmth and power : 
So drooped the blossom fair, 
Longing in darkness there 

For that bright hour. 

Once was a heart deep hid 
Coldness and gloom amid : 

Lo ! one sweet hour 
Warm brightness o'er it fell, 
Love's blossom felt the spell, 

Wide oped the flower. 

Sunshine came not again, 
Drooped Love's frail blossom then, 

Shrank like that flower. 
Ah ! shall they both not yet 
Uplift them and forget 

That one bright hour ? 



1 06 



JUNE'S MAGIC DRAUGHT. 

My soul is drunk with thee, O June ! 
This soft, warm air ot early noon 

Has breathed through leafy bowers, 
Where honeysuckle reaches high 
Her slender cups towards the sky, 

And pours down scented showers. 

My soul is drunk with thee, O June ! 
This soft, warm air of early noon 

Has swept o'er new- mown meadows, 
And through the fragrant wild-grape vine, 
And where the spice-sweet eglantine 

Deep blushes in the shadows. 

My soul is drunk with thee, O June ! 
This soft, warm air of early noon 

With clover breath is freighted, 
Syringas shower perfume out, 
And myriad roses shed about 

The sweets with which they're weighted. 

My soul is drunk with thee, O June ! 
This soft, warm air of early noon 

Has, like a cup enchanted, 
Through all my veins sweet languor poured — 
A magic draught which has restored 

The joys my spring-time granted. 

107 



108 JUNE'S MAGIC DRAUGHT. 

My soul is drunk with thee, O June ! 
This soft, warm air of early noon 

So fills me with completeness, 
That on this bank all weak I lie 
With parted lips and half-closed eye, 

Delirious with thy sweetness. 

Nay, I will neither see nor hear 
The sights, the sounds, afar, an ear, 

Lest too much joy undo me ; 
One sense alone I'll fill to-day, 
And, ere thy hand shall snatch away 

The draught thou holdest to me, 
Drink deeper still, O maddening June, 
Of thy soft air of early noon ! 



THE FURTHER WORD. 

He sang, my lover sang 
Amid a listening throng 
Who deemed for them the song ; 
But, ah ! I knew for me it rang, 
The song my lover sang. 

He sang, my lover sang. 
' ' I love ! I love ! ' ' they heard, 
But I a further word : 
"I love you! love you/" so it rang, 
The song my lover sang. 

He sang, my lover sang ! 
Then first I fully knew 
My heart was singing too. 
" Love too ! love too !" my echo rang 
As sweet my lover sang. 



109 



THREE SONNETS. 



BIRTH. 



In that strange, awesome hour when day draws near, 
When stars are fading in a wan, gray sky, 
And, half enveiled, the pallid moon rides high, 

When sounds of night are hushed, nor yet we hear 

Those early sounds that greet the waking ear, 

When earth, grown coldest, seems to faint and die 
For warming glances of the sun's bright eye, 

Then first was heard my voice. Ah ! was it fear 
That bade me utter that low, feeble wail ? 

Fear, and a prescience of the coming strife 
With all the grief and tears it must entail ? 

Or did I weep to leave some other life ? 
Or did I then first say to life, all hail ! 

Who, who shall say with what that cry was rife ! 



II. 

DEATH. 

In that sure hour which none may dare to deem 
Is more an hour of sorrow than of joy, 
When stars adown the field of heaven deploy, 

And o'er my white face whiter moon-rays stream. 

Revealing where a frozen smile doth beam 
no 



THREE SONNETS. in 

On silent lips ; when sounds no more annoy, 

Nor word of man my deep peace may destroy, 
Then one, perchance, shall bending o'er me dream, 

And ponder on the meaning of that look 
Whose import those pale lips shall ne'er confess : 

" Ah ! was it joy of strange, new life that shook 
Her inmost soul, or did tired consciousness 

Rejoice to yield the burden once it took ? 
Who, who the meaning of that smile shall guess!" 



III. 

LIFE. 

Why should I idly sit and seek in thought 
To pierce behind the doors that fast close in 
On birth and death, the unsolved mysteries twin ? 

Why question what behind those doors is wrought ? 

Mine what between them lies, all else hath naught 
To do with this great consciousness wherein 
I claim a present part. Ah ! it were sin 

That I should longer sit and question aught, — 
I through whose veins the floods of life still pour, 

Who claim the glory of the sea and sky, 

Earth's sounds and sights and scents, and, further- 
more, 

For whom there still be smiles that meet the eye, 
Hands that mine own may fervently clasp o'er, 

Lips that in vain to speak the full heart try ! 



THE WARNING. 

As in a waking vision one I met. 

A wreath of laurel crowned his splendid brow^ 
And on his finely carven face was set 
A look of never-ending, deep regret. 

To me he said, " Behold, take warning thou ! 

A singer I, remembered even now, 
And this my grief, that men will not forget 

Those songs unworthy of the bard's high vow. 
To loftier strains I might have given tongue, — 

I sang for praise, and I was sloth-oppresed, 
Had I but striven, pale and spirit-wrung, 

Mine high ideals had stood forth confesed. 
Take heed ! 'twere better thou hadst never sung 

Than sing a little lower than thy best !" 



SONNET TO THE SUMMER SUN. 

When I behold thee shining forth again 

With all thy subtle, penetrating power, 
Hopes that lay dead through Winter's weary reign 3 

Within my heart once more revive and flower. 
The pain, the gloomy doubt, the deep despair 

That haunted me throughout those weary days 
Have vanished, while I tell them, into air, 

Beneath the mighty magic of thy rays. 
Ah ! now I know wherefore the Grecians knelt 

And told all fearsome dreams to thee, O Sun, 
When morning broke, and wonder not they felt 

Thou wouldst avert the ill, if that were done. 
For, ever, when thou shinest forth in might, 
All gloom, all fell foreboding must take flight. 



10* 113 



LOVE'S UNIVERSE. 

(It is an old saying that if one gaze fixedly for some time at a 
single star, all the rest will presently be blotted out.) 

At eve, when flames of topaz and of rose 

Die on earth's battlements of amethyst, 
And overhead the dusky sapphire glows 

With golden stars that keep their nightly tryst, 
Fix thou thine eyes upon some radiant star, 

And let it hold thy gaze a lengthy space, 
Lo ! it shall from thy sight all others bar, 

The heavens loom blank save for the one bright 
place. 
Thus have I fixed on thee my every thought, 

So long that all the universe beside 
Has faded and grown dull and blank, nor aught 

Of light there is save where thou art descried. 
Yet gladly I all else give o'er for thee, 
Since thou art all the universe to me. 



14 



TRIFLES LIGHT AS AIR. 



"5 



LOOKING-GLASS VS. SWORD. 

It is a saying in far Japan, 
That the oath of man 
Is sworn upon his trusty sword, 
While a woman's oath, alas ! alas ! 
Is sworn upon her looking-glass. 

'Twould seem they deem in far Japan 

That the oath of man 
Endures like steel, while woman's word 
Is brittle as her looking-glass. 
But is it so ? Well, let that pass. 

Each swears by what upholds his reign : 

The sword, 'tis plain, 
Is stronger than the mirror frail, 
Yet woman armed with looking-glass 
Has conquered more than sword e'er has. 

Let man by weapons of war make oath, 

I'm nothing loath, 
Make oaths and keep them — if he can, 
But woman, whatever may come to pass, 
Will swear by the Sacred Look ing-G lass ! 



117 



WHEN CHANDELIERS DO SHED THEIR 
BLAZE. 

When chandeliers do shed their blaze, 
And o'er the scene the mellow rays 

Do softening fall, 
There is a glamour then o'er all, 
Which e'en fair sunshine cannot give. 
Near thee, once more I breathe, I live, 

When chandeliers do blaze. 

When chandeliers do shed their blaze, 
And o'er thy form the mellow rays 

Do dazzling fall, 
Oh, then there is a spell o'er all 
Which singles from the crowd thy face 
And leaves none other in the place, 

When chandeliers do blaze. 

When chandeliers do shed their blaze, 
And music, madding-sweet, soft plays, 

And thy footfall 
Keeps time with mine, then over all 
There seems a strange, wild witchery, 
I dare to dream thou lovest me, 

When chandeliers do blaze. 



:i8 



THE MIGHTY GOD, PROPINQUITY. 

Long the world hath loudly sung 
Cupid's praise, but n'er a tongue 
Yet hath ventured to proclaim 
Him who merits equal fame. 
All unsung, unpraised is he, 
The mighty god, Propinquity. 

Cupid shoots and then doth flee, 
Doth not even stay to see 
If his arrows reach their mark, 
Shooting blindly in the dark. 
But far otherwise works he, 
The mighty god, Propinquity. 

All he asks is but to stay 
With his victim day by day, 
Each will each in time then find 
Grown to be quite to his mind. 
Slow but surely worketh he, 
The mighty god, Propinquity. 

Cupid's darts and smarts one feels ; 

Unawares the other steals 

On his victims, ere they know 

Into bondage fast they go. 

Cupid I defy, but flee 

The stubborn god, Propinquity. 

119 



ON THE SANDS. 

Umbrella, novelette, and shawl, 
He carried each and carried all, 
And gave the lady his free hand 
To help her down upon the sand. 

The huge umbrella lent its shade 
To grateful man and gracious maid ; 
With all the world quite close at hand, 
They felt alone upon the sand. 

Some flimsiest web that fiction weaves 
She read, he idly turned the leaves, 
And so it happened that their hands 
Touched, now and then, upon the sands. 

Her shawl was fluttered by the breeze, 
And both essayed the folds to seize, 
And so it happened that their hands 
Met once again, upon the sands. 

She did not mean it should be so, 
But he forgot to let hers go, 
And she forgot to claim her hand, 
And thus they sat upon the sand. 

The book was closed, the shawl blew wide 
And as they sat there side by side, 



1 20 



ON THE SANDS. 121 

They both agreed to fast lock hands 
And walk together o'er life's sands. 

No doubt they meant it, doubtless thought 
'Twould last, this fabric fancy wrought ; 
But castles made by human hands 
Endure but ill when built on sands. 

Some weeks passed by, and both again 
Were seated by the sighing main, 
Alas ! he held another's hands, 
Another held hers, on the sands. 



A LOVER'S EVEN-SONG. 

Come out, dear girl, come out ! 
Soft, lest perchance the rest should hear I 
Lay your white hand in mine, no fear, 
The sill is low, my arm is strong, 
No matter if you step a-wrong. 

Come out, dear girl, come out ! 

Come out, dear girl, come out ! 
The fire-flies rise from out the grass, 
The still bats brush me as they pass, 
The whippoorwill is singing clear, 
The mellow moon will soon appear. 

Come out, dear girl, come out ! 

Come out, dear girl, come out ! 
Nay, pray you, do not bid me in ; 
On such a night as this 'twere sin 
To linger where the lamp-lights blaze ; 
Leave that for dreary winter days. 

Come out, dear girl, come out ! 

Come out, dear girl, come out ! 
In there I am as other men, 
But if you come with me, ah ! then 
This garden Paradise shall be, 
Those first lone, happy lovers we ! 

Come out, dear Eve, come out ! 

122 



STAY, LITTLE MOMENT! 

"Stay, stay, little moment ! stay !" he cried, 
When first her lips he touched with his. 

But, ah ! the little moment flew, 

As wilful little moments do, 
To join the ranks of Father Time, 
Who pays no heed to lovers' suits, 
Nor brooks delay in his recruits. 

"Stay, stay, little moment ! stay !" he cried, 

But faster still the moment flew. 

How light, how light e'en love's first kiss, 
The sweetest of all earthly bliss ! 

It has no weight with Father Time, 

Nor may retard one moment's flight. 

E'en love's first kiss so light, so light ! 



123 



TRIOLET. 

HE STOLE JUST ONE KISS. 

He stole just one kiss, 

Ah ! why did he do it ! 

I own it was bliss. 

Why then do I rue it 

He stole just one kiss ? 

The reason is this, — 

I fancied you knew it, — - 

He stole just one kiss ! 



124 



LOVER AND HUSBAND. 

The air was close, the night was warm ; 

He fanned with devoted care, 
And idly watched how the whifflets raised 

The rings of her bright, brown hair. 
Each wave of the fan seemed a soft caress, 

The lady's words grew broken, 
She trembled a little beneath his gaze 

As she felt his love unspoken. 

A year had passed and again he stood 

Close by the lady's chair, 
He held her fan but cooled his brow 

With most assiduous care. 
She thought of that night a year agone 

When he tenderly bent above her, 
And sighed for a moment, as women will, 

For her slowly vanishing lover. 



ii* 125 



SPRING FANCIES. 

It was spring's first charming weather 
As they sauntered on together 

Through the city's crowded street; 
And the first young buds were blowing, 
And the first warm sun was glowing 

With a touch of summer heat. 

He had eyes but for the maiden 
And his gaze was heavy laden 

With the feeling at his heart ; 
And he pleased himself with fancies 
That her half-averted glances 

Meant but shyness on her part. 

And he wondered if the feeling 
Through and through his being stealing 

Found an echo in her breast. 
" ' In the spring-time,' says the poet, 
* Young men's fancies' — but you know it, 

And I'll not repeat the rest :" 

Thus he said, then added, " Tell me — 
Here's a riddle you can spell me — 

Where do young girls' fancies turn?" 
And he watched for conscious blushes, 
Which, when warm blood upward rushes, 

Make a pair of soft cheeks burn. 
126 



SPR/A^G FANCIES. 127 

Then she turned her eyes, unwilling, 
Yet with mischief bright o'erspilling, 

And her color slightly rose. 
" In the spring, by modes entrancing, 
Young girls' fancies, set a-dancing, 

Lightly turn to thoughts of — clothes." 



ODE {OWED) TO MY OLD SHOE. 

Adieu, adieu ! my well-worn shoe ! 

Together we have trod thus far, 
And you have understood me well, 

No serious breaks e'er came to mar 
The footing upon which we stood, 
But now we say farewell for good ! 
Parting seams hard to bear, and so 
I ease the strain and let you go. 

Sometimes my feelings you have hurt, 
And pegged away without remorse, 
But now all wounds are newly-heeled, 

Time brings down-trodden ones recourse. 
I know that you are shoe-x\y mine, 
Moulded to me in every line, 
And you've remained until the end, 
Though shabby, yet a whole-soled friend. 

You used at first to quite rebel 

When forced to take my daily round ; 

I damped the ardor of your sole, 

And heard no further plaintive sound. 

You have been faithful to the last, 

And I am grateful for the past, 

Although 'tis literally true 

You're "cast aside like an old shoe." 
128 



ODE {OWED) TO MY OLD SHOE. 129 

Adieu, adieu ! my well-worn shoe ! 

I know at your dark lone retreat 
Sad longing looks I oft shall cast 

When newer favorites at my feet 
With zeal uncomfortable press ! 
I shall cry out at their caress, 
" Unloose the tie that binds to you, 
And give me back my well-worn shoe ! ' ' 



L'ENVOI. 

THE ALCHEMY OF THOUGHT. 

What cunning transmutations oft are wrought 

By that deft alchemist whom men call Thought ! 

I wrote a little ode to my old shoe, 

Sold it, and thereby bought a frock brand new. 

Why, better this than what they sought of old, 

To change the baser metals into gold ! 

O wondrous alchemy ! melts old shoes down 

And turns them to a spick-and-span new gown ! 



130 



A FEW DIALECT POEMS. 



133 



HOW THEY GO ON. 

Did ye ever take note of the differ' nt way 
That men an' women go on when they 
Wake up an' diskiver that love is gone ? 
Say, have y' ever took note how they go on 

This here's what's struck me a right good bit, 
She wants to remember an' he wants to fergit, 
An' the things she remembers they make him cuss, 
An' say " Great Scott ! what a fool I wuz !" 

She keeps all his picters an' letters an' sich, 
An' hides 'em away in some safe-like niche, 
An' brings 'em all out fer a quiet cry 
Some time when she thinks that there's no one by. 

Then she ties 'em with ribbons an' putts 'em away 
To fetch a good cry some lonesome-like day, 
An' sez she, heavin' sighs jest ez big ez she can, 
" Law me ! how I did useter love that there man ! 



An' he, when he's tossin' through collar an' cuff 
An' necktie an' kerchief an' sock an' sich stuff, 
Ef he finds some ole curl er ole ribbon er glove 
That wuz give by the woman he once useter love, 

Sez he, ez he gives it a keerless-like fling, 

" Why, where on earth did I git that there thing?' 

12 133 



134 



HOW THEY GO ON. 



An' snigg'rin', fool-like, ter hisself, sez he, 

" My land ! how that woman did useter love me!" 

Now that's 'bout the way that they both go on 
When they wake an' diskiver that love is gone. 
An' this here's the main p'int of differ' nee, ye see, 
Sez she, " I loved him !" sez he, " She loved me !' 



SATI'FIED WITH JUNE. 

Sometimes in airly summer, 

When 'long to'rds night, I go 
Down the lane that leads to paster, 

An' fold my arms up, so, 
An' lean agin the railin's 

An' look off to'rds the west, 
An' see the earth all bloomin' 

An' fixed up in her best, 
An' the moon comes softly stealin* 

An' the stars slip slyly out, — 
Why, I kind o' can't help feelin' 

This ole earth is jest about 
Ez good a place ez kin be, 
An' I don't keer to begin the 

Journey to another sp'ere, 

Sati'fied to be right here, 

Lookin' at the risin' moon, 

Knowin' that it's June, June, June ! 

That it's June / 

When the grass gits damp an' droopy 

An' the ground sends up sweet smells, 
An' frum far off 'crost the paster 

Sounds the tinkle of the bells, 
An' a little breeze comes trippin' 

'Long the clover-fiel' an' brings 
Jest a rush an' gush o' sweetness, 

An' the ole wild grape-vine flings 

135 



136 SATISFIED WITH JUNE. 

Down the nicest smell 'at ever 
Tickled sense of mortal man 

Then it seems to me there's never 
Been the likes sence time began. 

I fergit that cares air lurkin', 

An' fergit that I'm a shirkin', 

Jest to live an' breathe an' be, 
That there's good enough fer me, 
While my heart beats to the tune 
That this here is June, June, June ! 

That it's June / 

When at last the soft, low twitter 

Of the drowsy birds grows still, 
An' I hear a late one callin', 

Beggin' me to whip poor Will, 
When I hear the crickets' singin', 

An' the chirp of katydids, 
An' the fire-flies rise an' twinkle 

All the medder-grass amids', 
When the cattle stalk a bawlin' 

'Crost the paster to the gate, 
An' my wife's voice comes a-callin' 

Not to make the supper wait, 
An' I hear the baby crowin' 
Then I slowly start to go in, 

An' I feel so all-fired good 

That I'm jest blame ef I could 

Ask fer ary other boon ! 

Who hain't sati'fied with June, 

Sweet ole June ! 



THE JACKTOWN FAIR. 

The Jacktown fair is in full swing, 

You better come go ' long ! 
Here, jump into the waggin an' 

We'll jine the festive throng. 
Tight squeeze, but you won't mind it, you'll 

Enj'y things jest ez well. 
Here, putt this duster over ye 

An' hyst the umberel. 

Git up there, Dan ! I'm kinder tired 

Of takin' Timms's dust, 
I'm go'n ter pass him shore this time, 

I bet we git there fust ! 
Who's that he's got in with him, folks ? 

Some city gal, I swear ! 
She haint a patchin', Sue, to you, 

Fer all her stuck-up air. 

Well, gals, jest look along the road, 

Ye see we're almost there 
By all the stands an' booths an' things 

That follers with a fair. 
There's lemonade an' gingerbread 

An' peanuts, too, an' pop : 
No, thankee, gentlemen, not now, 

We haint got time to stop. 

12* 137 



138 THE JACKTOWN FAIR. 

Here's the painless tooth-extractor an' 

The Injun-yarb-cure man, 
An' the side-show with the fat gal 

Whose arm ye could' nt span, 
Not namin' livin' skellitins, 

Two-headed calves an' sich, 
An boas hissin', squirmin' till 

They make ye fairly twitch. 

Let's hurry up an' git inside 

An' find a shady spot, 
Where we kin hitch the hosses, then 

Let's take across the lot 
To where the gals kin see the quilts 

An' tidies an' crochet, 
An' jams an' jells an' all the stuff 

The women folks display. 

There's Timms's gal has took his arm 

Here, Sue, ketch onto mine, 
Let's show him we know how to do 

The thing up jest ez fine. 
He's treatin' ! here, come one, come all, 

An' hev some lemonade, 
Red kind, with peel a-floatin' round, 

An' " stirred up in the shade." 

An' now to see prize punkins, squash, 
An' beets an' 'taters big, 

An' ev'ry blessed animile 
Frum poultry up to pig. 



THE JACKTOWN FAIR. 139 

An' mind, ye're all to come up to 

The waggin when it's noon, 
To git yer grub an' watch the gal 

Go up in the balloon. 



We'll see the hoss race run a while, 

An' then be off by four, 
An' that'll give me plenty time 

To drap ye at yer door. — 
Sakes, Sue ! I'm glad they've all gone off 

An' left us where we air, 
Fer you're jest all I care to see 

At this here Jacktown fair. 



THE P'INT OF VIEW. 

Ree'ly, now, don't it seem queer 
Ev'rything on this here sp'ere 
Jest depends on how ye take it ? 
Mebbe some one else '11 make it 
Out to be the opposite 
Of the thing you've pictered it. 
Mebbe both of 'em air true — 
Jest a differ'nt p'int of view. 

There's that rose a-hangin' there, 
Smellin' sweet an' lookin' fair ; 
To a bee, now haint it funny? 
It's jest a place fer gittin' honey : 
What / think wuz made fer looks 
Is down ez "work- shop" in his books. 
He is right, an' I am too, — 
Jest a differ'nt p'int of view. 



140 



OUR OLEEVY. 

My ! but she wuz purty, our Oleevy wuz ! 
Hair ez yeller ! curlin' like the grape-vine does ; 
Eyes ez big ez saucers, black ez blackes' ink, — 
She wuz smart'z they make 'em, 'Leevy wuz, /think. 

Paw he died, an' mammy then she put us in 

Th' Orphing Home fer Childern. She got hitched 

ag'in, 
An' her new man he took us, 'ceptin' 'Leevy, she 
'Uz 'dopted by a woman 'twouldn't set her free. 

You know how the people 'doptin' childern do? 
Stand 'em all together, look 'em through an' through, 
Choose the bestest lookin' ! never seem to think 
May be cross an' naughty, lie ez quick ez wink. 

I got warts an' freckles, eyes 'at kind o' squint, 
Nose 'at's sort o' snubby an' hair ez white ez lint, 
So I'z never 'dopted. Cracky ! how I cried 
When they took Oleevy, thought 'at I'd 'a' died ! 

Fer they allays called me " 'Leevy's little maw." 
'Leevy never whimpered frum the time she saw 
All the brand-new fixin's bought fer her to wear, 
But I can't believe 'at 'Leevy didn't care. 

141 



142 



OUR O LEEVY 



Maw jes' took on orful when she foun' 'at she 
Couldn't git Oleevy, — took it out on me. 
'Leevy's new maw took her some'rs way out West, 
An' we heard she give her ever' thing the best. 

She had music lessons, an' I guess by now 
Plays on the pie-anny, — ought to, anyhow ; 
An' she's got a locket, an' some fing-er-rings, 
An' a reely watch, besides a lot of other things. 

I don't want 'em ! ruther stay here with my maw, 
But Oleevy's different, best I ever saw 
Ain't too good fer 'Leevy ! she's jes' borned to be 
Reg'ler little lady, don't look kin to me. 

Onct she come, that woman, to see her folks ag'in : 
Maw an' me we wondered ef 'Leevy 'd know her kin. 
Maw she cried an' tremmeld, dropped down on her 

knees 
Right in front of 'Leevy, — 'Leevy said, " Don't, 

please ! ' ' 

Maw cried, " Oh, my baby don't remember me !" 
'Leevy she seemed sorry, puzzled-like to be, — 
Reckon 'at she acted that there way because 
She thought it 'uz funny she should have two maws. 

" Oh, my heart is broken !" maw cried out : " jes' see 
How my purty baby's clean fergitted me!" 
An' the woman tole us best not come again, 
Best fer all 'at 'Leevy should fergit her kin. 



OUR OLEEVY. 143 

Maw she takes on, sometimes, 'bout our 'Leevy now, 
But 1 tell her, " Mammy, I jes' know, somehow, 
'At our little 'Leevy kind o' 'membered us, 
Though she kep' so quiet, didn't make no fuss. 

" Ef that woman 'd lef her to herself, I know 
'Leevy would 'a' 'membered." Oh, I loved her so ! 
Our little 'Leevy, 'at I know 'at she 
Never, never could 'a' clean fergitted me ! 



MAKIN' MUD-PIES. 

When I det tired of playin' dolls, 

An' 'tendin' 'at they's makin' calls, 

An' all the other things 'at they 

Make little durls stay home an' play, 

I jest skeedaddle off an' run 

Down our back lot, an' my ! what fun ! 

I work till dinner so's to s'prise 

My maw with nice, big, fat mud-pies. 

There's a boy next door 'at sometimes pokes 
His head between the fence, an' jokes, 
An' laughs, an' says he knows why I 
Am always makin' " ole mud-pie." 
"You're made o' dirt yoreself, ho ! ho ! 
No wonder 'at you like it so. 
Oh aint you jest a purty sight ! 
Say, honest, air you black er white?" 

Nen I det jest ez mad ! an' say 
" Do 'way, you naughty boy, do 'way ! 
You're made o' dirt yoreself, 'ats why 
You're such an udly boy. But I 
Am made frum sudar an' frum spice 
An' ever' thing 'ats dood an' nice, 
My mammy says. Do 'way ! fer I 
Am busy makin' this mud-pie." 
[ 44 



MA KIN' MUD- PIES. 145 

An' nen the dinner-bell '11 ring, 

An' maw '11 say, " Dirty little thing ! 

Don't come near me till you air clean !" 

But I do up to her an' lean 

My muddy han's on her an' say, 

" I made this pie fer you to-day." 

An' nen she hugs me till I hurt, 

An' never seems to mine the dirt, 

An' says, "Why, bless my darlin's eyes, 

I 'most could eat her an' her pies." 



A LITTLE BOY'S FAITH. 

A STORY OF THE HOSPITAL. 

Yes, ma'am, I'm gittin better now, the doctor he sez so, 
'N the purty nuss 'at wears a cap — say, I bet Doc's her 

beau ! 
'Cause onct when I wuz huggin' her, the doctor he 

stood by, 
'N I could see he wisht he'z me, 'n I sez, " Doc," sez I, 
" Don'tche wish 'at you're a little boy?" 'N my, how 

red he got ! 
'N kinder looked at her an' laughed. He's sweet on 

her, 'at's what ! 
'N so am I, but Doc, I guess, '11 git her, fer ye see 
I'm on'y sevin, 'n he's got too big a start of me. 

They're mighty good to me, 'n yit I miss my maw a lot. 
Ef she could jest be here with me I'd ruther stay 'an 

not, 
Fer we're jest orful poor, sometimes we haint enough 

to eat ! 
Maw's poorly, she can't hunt fer work, like some, frum 

street to street. 
I useter wish 'at I could work a blackin' boots fer gents, 
I know a boy 'at makes some days ez much ez twenty 

cents ! 
But I'm too lame to walk aroun', 'n so I jest 'ud sit 
'N wish " Oh, ef I had a crutch to git about a bit !" 
146 



A LITTLE BOY'S FAITH. 147 

I kep' a thinkin' night an' day, " How shell I git me 

one ?" 
'N last I 'membered hearin' say 'at the way 'at some 

folks done 
When wantin' sump'n' orful bad wuz jest to go an' pray, 
'N so I thought, "I'll pray to God to send a crutch my 

way. 
But like ez not he'll never hear, my voice is orful 

weak, — 
I'll write a letter, 'n he'll mind that morn 'n ef I speak." 
I writ it, 'n a neighbor boy he took it to the place, 
'N said the man laughed ruther hard, 'cause tears come 

on his face. 

He must 'a' sent the letter straight, fer in a day er so 
Some ladies come, 'n with 'em Doc, 'n Doc sez he, 

"Hello, 
Young man, I hear you've sent way off to Heaven to 

git a crutch ! 
An' now, le's see what we kin do, p'r'aps not very 

much." 
He thumped me, 'n he poked my back, 'n listened at 

my chist, 
'N felt my pulse, 'n nen he struck the table with his 

fist, 
'N sez, " We'll jest do all we kin to set ye on yer feet ! 
I bet I see ye yit, ye scamp, a racin' 'roun' the street !" 

The ladies they got maw some work 'n nen they brought 

me here, 
'N fixed me up in this here brace; I tell ye it feels 

queer ! 



148 A LITTLE BOY'S FAITH. 

They gimme lots to eat 'n drink, 'n make me stuff and 

stuff, 
Fer Doc sez half the trouble is I never got enough ! 
I'm gittin' stronger ev'ry day, 'n I kin walk a bit ! 
The nuss she sez she knows I'll live to he'p my mother 

yit ! 
" 'N marry you !" I sez to her. She laughs 'n strokes 

my pate, 
'N sez, "Ask Doc. Ef he sez so, I'm willin' fer to 

wait." 

The neighbor boy he laughs 'n sez my letter didn't go, 
Because I didn't git jest what I writed fer, ye know. 
But nuss sez folks don't do sech things fer boys like me 

unless 
God puts 'em in their heads to do : 'n so He thought, 

I guess, 
" Down there's a little feller that haint asked fer very 

much, 
'N so I'll let Doc make him walk." That's better than 

a crutch. 



BARNEY OF KILLARNEY. 

Have ye iver seen young Barney, 

Wid his curlin' coal black hair, 
An' his mouth a-drippin' blarney, 

An' his laugh as free as air? 
Oh, travel up an' travel down 

From Kerry to Kildare, 
Ye' 11 ne'er find sich another as 

Young Barney anywhere, 
As that blatherin' young Barney 
Of Killarney. 

Sure, the gyurls they all love Barney, 

An' he shpakes thim all right fair, 
An' they all belave his blarney ; 

Sorra bit does Barney care. 
Oh, travel up an' travel down 

From Kerry to Kildare, 
There's mony a heart that's beatin' high 

For Barney, ivry where, 
For that blatherin' young Barney 
Of Killarney. 

But there's wan turns pale for Barney 
Whin the others blushin' air, 

Whin they're laughin' at his blarney 
Down her cheek there rolls a tear. 

13* 149 



i5° 



BARNE Y OF K1LLARNE Y. 

Oh, travel up and travel down 

From Kerry to Kildare, 
He'll ne'er find wan that loves so true 

As she loves, anywhere, 
Loves that blatherin' young Barney 
Of Killarney. 

Oh, he can't resist it, Barney; 

Sich a love as hers, I swear. 
Sure he'll some day quit his blarney — 

Or he'll save it all for her. 
Thin, travel up an' travel down 

From Kerry to Kildare, 
Ye' 11 ne'er find sich a happy gyurl 

As she'll be, anywhere. 
An' her name? Lave that for Barney 
Of Killarney. 



THE RIVALS. 

She's a winsome colleen ! 

Whin I take me dudheen, 

And the smoke wreaths arise, 

I can see her bright eyes 

VVhur a laugh lurkin' lies, 

And her white little chin 

Wid its dape dimple in, — 
Oh, there niver was seen such a winsome colleen 
As her through the smoke of me good owld dudheen ! 

She's a poutin' colleen 

Whin she sees me dudheen ! 

Whin the smoke wreaths arise 

There's a snap in her eyes, 

Whur an imp lurkin' lies, 

And she tilts her white chin 

Wid its dape dimple in, — 
Oh, there niver was seen such a poutin' colleen 
As her whin I take up me good owld dudheen ! 

What ails the colleen 

Whin I take me dudheen? 

" It's me rival," siz she, 

Wid a side-glance at me, 

"And it's aisy to see 

Which howlds the first place, 

And I say to your face 
It's plain to be seen that ye want no colleen 
Whin your lips are glued fast to your darlin' dudheen !" 

151 



152 THE RIVALS. 

Thin I drop me dudheen — 
Jist to plaze the colleen, 
And to prove that wan sip 
From her swate poutin' lip 
Would onloosen me grip 
From me pipe or me life ! 
Darlin' Connie, me wife ! 
Oh, there niver was seen such a lovin' colleen 
As her — whin she's coaxed me to drop me dudheen ! 

Thin I eye me dudheen, 
And I eye the colleen ; 
And she'll prisintly rise, 
Wid warm love in her eyes, 
While she laughin'ly tries 
To breathe back a light 
In me pipe that's out quite. 
Oh, there niver was seen such a witchin' colleen 
As her whin pertindin' to light me dudheen ! 



MY LI'L GAL DONE GOT A BEAU. 

My li'l gal done got a beau ! 

Dasso ! 
Dat young rapscalyun hangin' roun' 
Heah ever sence he strike dis town, 
But dat not bodder me a-tall, 
I thought, "She jes' a chile, dat's all," 

But sho ! 
She big enough to git a beau ! 

My li'l gal done got a beau ! 

Dasso ! 
I didn' eben 'spishun dem 
When she let down her dress's hem, 
An' fixed her haar de growed-up way, 
An' wo' raid ribunds ev'y day, 

But sho ! 
Dat gal she fix to kotch a beau. 

My li'l gal done got a beau ! 

Dasso ! 
I orter seed right thu hit all 
When she lef off a-playin' doll; 
De dolls dee kaint lub back, you know, 
An' dressin' dem hit pow'ful slow, 

Fer sho, 



Long side o' dressin' fer a beau. 



53 



154 



MY LI'L GAL DONE GOT A BEAU. 

My li'l gal done got a beau ! 

Dasso ! 
He mighty slickry ! when he see 
Me comin' roun', dat quick sezee, 
" I 'spec's you orter he'p yo' maw ; 
She done look mighty tired." O law ! 

Desso 
Dey all talks when dey'z playin' beau ! 

My li'l gal done got a beau ! 

Dasso ! 
De fus' I knowed wuz one warm night, 
De moon wuz shinin' full an' bright, 
De groun'-pea patch wuz wet wid dew, 
De milyun -patch wuz glis'nin' too, 

Fer sho 
De ve'y night to bring a beau. 

Hit bring my li'l gal her beau, 

Dasso ! 
I sot jes' whar de hop-vine th'owed 
Hit's shadder roun' de do', an' growed 
So thick dem chillun didn' see 
Dat 'hime hit sot ole man an' me. 

You know 
Gals kine o' bline 'longside dee beau. 

My li'l gal done got a beau ! 

Dasso ! 
Fer while dey'z swingin' on de gate, 
I heard a soun', an' sho' ez fate 



MY LTL GAL DONE GOT A BEAU. 155 

I seed dat darkey up an' kiss 
My li'l gal, my l'l M'liss. 
1 ' Fer sho, ' ' 
Sez paw, " dat gal hab got a beau." 

" My li'l gal done got a beau? 

Not so ! 
I fix dat no-cyoun' fool dis day 
Fer kiss a li'l gal dat-a-way !" 
"Now jes' set still, ole gal," sezee, 
"An' let dat man an' 'ooman be. 

You know 
Growed gals is boun' to hab dee beau !" 

" Dat gal of yo'n she got a beau, 

Dasso, 
But when we done ow' co'tin' we 
Wuz jes' ez young ez dem two be. 
Ole 'ooman, we'z a-gittin' on, 
Dat li'l gal of owahn gone 

Fer sho, 
Becase she been an' got a beau." 

My li'l gal done got a beau ! 

Dasso ! 
No use to wring my han's an' cry, 
De li'l gal she clean gone by ! 
O chile, bes' man you ever saw 
Will nuver lub you lak yo' maw ! 

But sho ! 
Dat gal doan ca' , she got a beau ! 



DE INCH-WUM AN' DE HOPPER-GRASS. 

Dee bofe wuz gwine along de road 

One lubly summer day, 
De hopper he gin gret big hops, 

An' git 'long fas' dat-a-way ; 
But Mister Inch-wum go right slow, 
He lay down flat, den hunch up, so, 

Dat how he go. 

De hopper soon kotch up wid him, 

An' pass de time o' day ; 
He say, " Law, inch-wum, whar you gwine 

A-pokin' 'long dis-a-Way ?" 
"I'se boun' fer Heab'n," de inch-worm 'low, 
" Do' long de road I'se made my vow 

Git dyah somehow.' 

De hopper groun' he wings an' laf, 

An' fix he laigs to spring, 
"I'se gwine to Heab'n myse'f," sezee, 

" You po' ole slow-coach thing ! 
Ef I git dyah befo' you do, 
I'll tell 'em yuz a-comin', too. 

So long to you ! ' ' 

De inch-wum ain't say nuttin' 'tall, 

But jes' keep on he paf ; 
An' one fine day de hopper come 

A traipsin' back. He laf, — 
156 



DE INCH-WUM A A" DE HOPPER-GRASS. 157 

" Ole step an' -fetch, still on de way ? 
I done been dyah an' back," he say, 

" Sence tu'rr day." 

Den inch-wum raar he haid an' say, 
" Whut fer you done come back ? 

Whurfo' you leabe dat heab'nly home 
To trabble dis hard track?" 

" Ho ! 'pears lak Heab'n an' me doan' suit, 

Set still all day, git tired, to boot, 

An' den I scoot." 

"Mon," sez de inch-wum, "dat de way 

Wid libely, res' less men : 
Git ev'ywhar in gret big jumps, 

Den wan' git back agin. 
Ef you inched 'long in my slow way, 
You been right glad to stop an' stay 

'Tell Jedgmen' Day!" 

Now, chile, you heah me tell you so, 

Hit jes' lak dat, fer fac', 
When folks gits 'ligion all to onct, 

Dey boun' come slidin' back ; 
But dem whut bit by bit inch 'long, 
Dee gwine to jine dat heab'nly th'ong, 

Wid praise an' song ! 



14 



A TOAS'. 

O Feb'ua'y fo'teenth, dat's de time 
When you heah dem glasses chink an' chime, 
An' de boys dee drinks de toas'es down 
To all de pooty ladiz dat's in dis town. 

Sing hi, sing ho, 

Now doan' say no, 
You mus' drink to de pooties' ladiz ! 

Dar's one he'll drink to de gal whar fat, 
An' turrs dee'll up an' laugh at dat; 
An' one' 11 drink to de gal whar thin, 
Wid de hatchet face an' de p'inted chin. 

Sing hi, sing ho, 

But he doan' know 
Dat she ain' jes' de pooties' lady. 

Dar's one he'll drink to de gal whar tall, 
An' one' 11 drink to de gal whar small ; 
An' one' 11 drink to de gal whar kine, 
An' one to de gal dat meks him mine ! 

Sing hi, sing ho, 

Each think he know 
Dat he drink to de pooties' lady. 

Now, I ain' sayin' no name a-tall 
When dey drinks to dee ladiz, gret an' small. 
158 



A TOAS\ 159 

But I lif 's my glass an' I drinks dis toas', 
"To de li'l honey-gal whut loves me de mos' !" 

Sing ho, sing hi, 

Now dat's jes' why 
I think she's de pooties' lady. 

But de gals so pleasin', shawt er tall, 
Dat I 'clar we boun' to toas' dem all ! 
So fill yo' glasses, jes' one mo' roun', 
To all de pooty ladiz dat's in dis town. 

Sing hi, sing ho, 

Now doan' say no, 
You mus' drink to de chawmerin' ladiz. 



MY CHILLEN' S PICT YAH. 

AN EPISODE OF AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHY. 

Hi, chillen ! what on yuth dis mean dat you doan' 

anser me ? 
Dem's de beatenes' lot o' chillen dat ever I did see ! 
I gin'ly has to hunt fer 'em er kotch 'em on de fly, 
Fer do' I sez de wud myse'f, my chillen' s monst'ous 

sly. 

Dyah's Nancy, now, a-hidin' 'hime dat woodpile, lak a 
fool, 

An' heah comes Araminty Zoe a-kitin' back f'um 
school ; 

An' Zip done say dat he a-gwine a-huntin' cotton- 
tails — 

Law ! dyah dat boy now, sho's yo' bawn, a-roostin' top 
dem rails ! 

Come down heah 7 meejit, chillen, whar dese wilier 

booshes grow, 
An' stan' yo'se'fs tege'rr in a nice an' eben row. 
Heah's man f'um town dat wan's to tek a pictyah of 

you all, 
An' say he gimme one to keep bidout no cos' a-tall. 
1 60 



MY CHILL EN 1 S PICT YAH. 161 

Now doan' you stop to wash yo' han's er fix in Sunday 

clo'es ; 
Man say he wan' you come jes' so, 'n' I reckon dat he 

knows. 
Heah, Zip, you stan' between de gals an' stop dat 

pinchin' trick, 
An' ef you doan' stop gigglin' so, I fotch you all a 

lick! 

Heah, Nancy, put dem han's o' yo'n tege'rr, jine 'em 

so, 
An' try an' look mo' sensible, lak Araminty Zoe ! 
You s'poze I wan' a pictyah fer to keep thu all my 

days 
Wid chillen grinnin' out dee moufs in sech a foolish 

ways ? 

Now look jes' whar man tell you to, an' Zip tu'n out 

dem toes ! 
Whut ! tuk a'raidy ! Dat's ez quick ez ever lightnin' 

goes ! 
I'se mighty 'bleeged, aa' on'y wish dat hit mought so 

'a' been 
You hadn' tuk dee pictyah wid dat mos' owdashus 

grin. 

But, arter all, why mebbe hit's ez well dat dat shud be, 
Case when dey's growed an' full of ca's, an' I mought 

wan' to see 
Jes' how my li'l ca'less, happy chillen use' to look, 
I'll go fetch down de pictyah dat you hab so kinely 

tuk. 
I 14* 



GITTIN' UNDER POWER. 

Miss Belle, you better ga'rr all yo' hens an' tukkies 

in, 
Fer de big contractid meetin' hits gwine to soon begin. 
You knows las' time dee got 'em all, an' all de lambs 

an' shotes, 
Befo' de meetin's stopped, had gone down some dem 

convu'ts th'oats. 

I am' swo'd off f 'urn goin', an' I may git happy some, 
But I 'clared las' time dat when agin contractid meetin' 

come, 
Do' I mought set on de mo'ners' seat an' sing a bit an' 

shout, 
I doan' git under power ef I knows whut I'se about. 

Miss Belle, some dem fool niggers 'buse dee 'ligious 

priverlidge, 
An' 'tend dee's under power, lak dat Lize f'um on de 

Ridge, 
An' does all kines of mean, low tricks you got to stan', 

fer dey 
Lets on dat dee doan' know a-tall dey's ca'yin' on dat- 

a way. 

I ain' been tole you 'bout de furse I had wid Lize las' 

yeah 
When she wuz gittin' 'ligion at de meetin's over heah? 
162 



GITTIJST UNDER POWER. 163 

Her soul's healt' ain' whut bring her all dat distunz thu 

de dark ; 
Dat gal she full of meanness, an' she come to hab a 

lark. 



One night I went vvid Cashus Clay, an' on my haid I 

wo' 
De bigges' hat dat I c'u'd fine at dat dyah One Price 

Sto'; 
I'd bent hit roun' an' kotched hit up jes' over one my 

eahs, 
An' putt on all de 'ficial flow's you gin me dese five 

yeahs. 

Well, honey, when we git to chu'ch, dat Lize she wuz 

dere, 
A-singin' an' a shoutin' an' a-jumpin' in de air ; 
She'd roll her eyes an' clap her han's an' raise up on 

de toe, 
An' grunt lak dis, " Um-umph ! um-umph !" and come 

down haivy, so. 

'Twere all putt on ! I knows de signs o' gittin' under 

power. 
Do' dey may show de whites dee eyes an' jump up by 

de hour, 
Dee kaint fool me ! When dat gal seed my hat an' 

Cashus Clay, 
I seed her look o' meanness ez she started down ow' 

way. 



1 64 G1TTIN' UNDER POWER. 

She done been arter Cash husse'f, but taint a bit o' 

use, 
Fer Cash doan' pay no 'tention 'tall to sech a grinnin' 

goose. 
She come cavawtin' up to me an' struck me in de face, 
An' grabbed my hat f'um offn me an' 'gun to tear de 

lace. 

"Gal, come agin!" I sez to her, "I'se raidy fer a 

fight!" 
" Stop ! stop !" dee sez, " she under power ; to hit her 

ain' been right !" 
Miss Belle, I hatter see dat gal jes' tear my hat to bits, 
An' I fell up 'gin Cashus lak I gwine to go in fits. 

Dat mek her madder 'n ever yit to see Cash holdin' 

me ; 
She to' my flow's to frazzles, 'tell dee wuz a sight to 

see, 
An' den she 'wake up sudden, 'tendin : lak she jes' 

come to, 
An' sez, " I hopes you 'scuze me, fer I ain' know whut 

I do." 

" Sho, gal ! go 'way !" sez I to her, " dat wuz a game 

you played ! 
Huccome you know so well jes' whar yo' 'scuses mus' 

be made ?' ' 
"Dellaws!" sez she, a-grinnin' kine o' deblish-lak at 

dat, 
"I sees dis rubbidge, an' I see dat you ain' got no 

hat!" 



\ 



GITTIN' UNDER POWER. 165 

"Gal! come outside!" I sez to her, but she grown 

mighty good ; 
" Dis heah's contractid meetin', sister, er I sut'n'y 

would." 
" Gret Day in de Mawnin', gal!" sez I, " bes' mine 

whut yuz about, 
Fer de fus' nex' time I meet you we's gwine to hab dis 

out!" 

I hatter set all meetin' thu bidout no hat an' see 
Dat gal a-cuttin' capers an' a-makin' fun o' me ; 
She'd roll her eyes at Cash an' grin, an' pick up bits o' 

hat, 
But putt right quick when meetin' s out, I tuk good note 

o' dat. 

I ain' sot eyes upon her sence, she done keep out my 

way, 
She's a pulin' sawt o' nigger, an' she 'feared o' me, 

dee say. 
She 'specs to 'tend de meetin's, so I heah, an' ef she 

do, 
Gret King ! I'se gwine to fine some way to putt dat 

darkey thu ! 

I done been tole you I doan' ca' 'bout gittin' under 

power, 
But cullud pussons nuver knows jes' when de heab'nly 

shower 
A-comin' down, an' ef I shud jes' happen in dat state — 
Dyah ain' gwine be one spear of wool lef on dat 

'ooman's pate ! 



MIST' PEACOCK AN' MIS' GUINEA-HEN. 

Dee lived on de same plantation, 

But cudden' git 'long ve'y well, 
Case he's mighty highfalutin', 

An' sass her a lot, so dee tell ; 
I heah she his po' relation, 

An' do' I doan' know dat fer fac', 
Ef true, hit's mos' sho'ly de reason 

Fer de mean, shabby way dat he ac'. 

He had de run of de gyardin, 

While she hatter stay 'hime de fence 
Wid 'er wings cut to keep 'er f'um flyin'. 

I tell you, he think he's immense 
When spreadin' he tail an' struttin' 

So biggitty over de grass, 
An' goin' close up to de palin's 

So she hatter look at 'im pass. 

One time he fly up on de railin's, 

On puppus to gin 'er some jaw, 
Mis' Guinea knowed whut wuz comin', 

An' putt, but he lay down de law : 
" No good fer to run, Mis' Guinea, 

Dyah ain' nair a spot on de place 
My pow'ful voice hit wont reach to, 

No use to try hidin' yo' face." 
1 66 



MIST PEACOCK AN 1 MIS' GUINEA-HEN. 167 

" No wonder you wanster hide hit, 

Yu'z a po' ole speckle-face thing, 
Bidout any tail to speak of, 

Er eben de use of a wing ; 
An' ez fer de matter of talkin', 

You kaint eben anser me back, 
All ever I heah you 'spon' is 

' Put-rack-a ! put-rack-a ! put-rack !' " 

Mis' Guinea she 'bout to anser 

An' tell 'im de mos' of folks say 
He vain, silly, proud, an' foolish, 

All tail an' no haid, an' de way 
He go on about he fedders, 

An' spread 'em when folks passin' by, 
Had gin a start to de sayin' 

Dat peacocks is all gret big "I." 

She stop an' think twict about hit, 

An' doan' say no wu'd but "put-rack" 
(De guinea talk fer " good-mavvnin' ") ; 

She know 'taint no use to hit back ; 
She walk off an' lef ' him a-jawin' 

All mawnin' a-top o' de fence, 
An' when you hear whut thing happen, 

You say dat she show her good sense. 

De missus she walk in de gyardin, 
An' say, " Oh dat turrible noise ! 

I'll hab dat bu'hd putt an end to, 
Fer all peace an' quiet he 'stroys. 



1 68 MIST PEACOCK AN' MIS' GUINEA-HEN. 

I think, too, he look right harnsum 
When stuff' nice an' stood on a stan', 

He lubly tail all out-spreadin' ; 
Yas, dat seem a ve'y good plan." 

De tale of de Peacock an' Guinea, 

Dis heah is de meanin', I 'low, 
'Taint safe fer to be too good-lookin' 

Er try to show off, anyhow ; 
An' when fer to sing yo' own praises 

You chunes up, de music ain' sweet 
In de eahs of de lis'enin' people, 

Do' you think yu'z doin' hit neat. 



TELL 'EM HOWDY. 

You think dat chile done faver me ? 
Well, I dunno how dat may be, 
Some think he look jes' lak he paw, 
Some say he imidge of he maw. 
Dat nose of hisen, flat an' close, 
I think hit faver paw de mos', 
Dem gret big eyes of his he may 
Git f 'um he maw, dat whut dee say. 

But, honey, whut I ca' 'bout dat ! 
I on'y knows yuz roun' an' fat 
An' sof ' an' cute an' mighty sweet, 
An' plenty good enough to eat ! 
Now, son, set up an' be good chile, 
An' show de ladiz, when you smile, 
Dem li'l bran new tools of yo'n 
Dat bit my finger to de bone. 

But law ! he done hit jes' in play, 
'Twuz lak ez ef he meant to say, 
" I knows de use of toofs — to eat, 
An' you kaint fool me, dis heah's meat. 
Stop suckin' of dat li'l fis' 
An' wave yo' li'l han' lak dis, 
An' tell de ladiz " howdy." Son ! 
He wont show off fer any one. 

De fus' thing at de peek o' day, 
Dat chile set up in bed an' say, 

H 15 169 



1 70 TELL ' EM HO WD V. 

" Maw ! howdy, maw !" an' pull my haar 
Wid all he might, I do declar', 
An' when he paw go off to wuk, 
He wave he han's an' fairly juk, 
F'um out my arms, po' li'l man, 
A-yellin' "howdy !" loud'z he kin. 

An' when he paw git home at night 

Hit sut'n'y is a pooty sight 

To see dat baby laf an' crow, 

An' "howdy" when he paw "hello." 

Dat 'bout de on'y wud he know, 

An' when folks come an' when dee go, 

Ef dee doan' tek no note of him, 

He call out " howdy !" Li'l limb ! 

But ef dee coaxes, jes' dat sho' 

He suck he li'l fis' de mo'. 

Hit 'pears to me dat 'bout de. way 

Dat big folks actin' ev'y day : 

Jes' coax an' mek 'em think dee'z some, 

An' all de mulier dee become ; 

But jes' you leave 'em to deyse'f — 

Come roun' so quick hit tek yo' bref. 

Now whut I tell you ! jes' see dyah ! 
He think we done fergit to ca', 
An' so he up an' show he trick. 
My blessed lamb, but you is slick ! 
Yas, tell : em howdy, li'l man, 
An' watch 'em jes' ez fur'z you kin. 
Myse'f doan' think a man quite right 
Dat doan' watch ladiz out of sight. 



GO LIGHTLY, GAL. 

Sweetes' li'l honey in all dis Ian', 
Come along heah an' gimme yo' han', 

Go lightly, gal, go lightly ! 

Cawn all shucked an' de barn no' clean, 
Come along, come along, come along, my deal). 
Go lightly, gal, go lightly ! 

Fiddles dee callin' us high an' fine, 

" Time fer de darnsin', come an' jine !" 

Go lightly, gal, go lightly ! 

My pooty li'l honey, but you is sweet ! 
An' hit's clap yo' han's an' shake yo' feet, 

Go lightly, gal, go lightly ! 

Hit's cut yo' capers all down de line, 
Den mek yo' manners an' tip-toe fine, 

Go lightly, gal, go lightly ! 

Oh, hit's whull yo' pardners roun' an' roun' 
'Tell you hyst dee feet clean off de groun', 

Go lightly, gal, go lightly ! 

O hit's tu'n an' twis' all roun' de flo', 
Fling out yo' feet behime, befo', 

Go lightly, gal, go lightly ! 
171 



172 GO LIGHTLY, GAL. 

Gret Lan' of Goshen ! but you is spry ! 
Kaint none of de urr gals spring so high, 

Go lightly, gal, go lightly ! 

Oh, roll yo' eyes an' wag yo' haid 
An' shake yo' bones 'tell you nigh mos' daid, 
Go lightly, gal, go lightly ! 

Doan' talk to me 'bout gittin' yo' bref ! 
Gwine darnse dis out ef hit cause my def ! 

Go lightly, gal, go lightly ! 

Urmhumph ! done darnse all de urr folks down ! 
Skip along, honey, jes' one mo' roun' ! 

Go lightly, gal, go lightly ! 

Fiddles done played 'tell de strings all break ! 
Come along, honey, jes' one mo' shake ! 

Go lightly, gal, go lightly ! 

Now tek my arm an' perawd all 'roun', 
'Tell dee see whar de s/w'mtjf dancers foun', 
Go lightly, gal, go lightly ! 

Den gimme yo' han' an' we quit dis heah, 
Come along, come along, come along, my deah, 
Go lightly, gal, go lightly ! 






QUIT YO' WORRYIN'. 

Nigger nuver worry, — 

Too much sense fer dat, 
Let de white folks skurry 
'Roun' an' lose dee fat, 
Nigger gwine be happy nuver-mine-you whar he at. 

Nigger jes' kaint worry, — 

Set him down an' try, 
No use, honey, fer he 
Sho' to close he eye, 
Git so pow'ful sleepy dat he pass he troubles by. 

Cu'ious, now, dis trouble 

Older dat hit grown, 
'Stiddier gittin' double, 
Dwinnle to de bone ; 
Nigger know dat, so dat why he lef ' he troubles 'lone. 

Nigger nuver hurry ; 

Dem whut wants to may ; 
Hurry hit mek worry / 
Now you heah me say 
Ain' gwine hurry down de road to meet ole Def half- 
way ! 

Den quit yo' hurryin', 

Quit yo' worry in' ! 

Whut de use of all dis skurryin' ? 

15* ^73 



174 QUIT YCT WORRYIN\ 

Mek ole Time go sof ' an' slow, 
Tell him you doan' want no mo' 
Dis heah everlastin' flurryin', — 
Jes' a trick of his fer hurryin' 
Folks de faster tow'ds dee burryin' ! 



CHRI'MUS COMIN' ! 

Chri'mus hit's a comin' ! 
Doan' you heah me now? 
White folks cuts no figger 
Dese times 'side de nigger ; 
Chri'mus made on puppus fer de niggers, anyhow. 

Chri'mus hit's a-comin' ! 
No mo' wuk a while, 
Gwine to be dat lazy 
Drive de boss mos' crazy, 
Chri'mus-week, no use a-tall to hurry up dis chile. 

Chri'mus hit's a comin' ! 
Den de fun begins. 
Pile de logs up higher, 
Nuttin' lak a fire ! 
Nigger pow'ful happy when he toas'in' of he shins. 

Chri'mus hit's a-comin'! 
Be heah mighty soon. 
Retch de ole gun down den, 
Lemme chase aroun' den, 
Chri'mus won' be Chri'mus-time bid out a tas'e of coon. 

Chri'mus hit's a-comin'! 
Fotch de ole jug out, 
Apple-jack to fill hit, 
Hawg-meat in de skillet, 
Nigger git so happy dat he hatter sing an' shout. 

i75 



176 CHRPMUS CO MI 1ST. 

Chri'mus hit's a-comin' ! 
Git up fo' hit's light, 
Fine mos' folks a-nappin' ; 
Fo' dee know whut happen, 
Cotch dee presents, shoutin' " chri'mus-gif !" wid all 
my might. 

Chri'mus hit's a-comin'! 
Li'l gal I know, 
• Thu de pine-woods yonder, 
Gwine git all I squander 
On dese Chri'mus doin's, an' I weesh 'twuz heap sight 
mo'. 

Chri'mus hit's a-comin' ! 
Rozzum up de bow ! 
Footes dat onsteady 
Dat I'se feard a' ready 
Gwine to lose de 'ligion dat I got las' Augus', sho'. 

Chri'mus hit's a comin' ! 
Niggers ain' de same ! 
Chri'mus in de bones den, 
Ef dee fairly hones den 
Fer ongawdly doin's, hifsjW Chri'mus dafs to blame / 



DE TUKKEY-TAIL FAN. 

'Ltas ! is dat my tukkey tail fan 
You gotten in yo' han' ? 
Des putt hit right back on dat nail 
Above de water-pail, 

Whar you gotten hit f'um ! 

When I'se about yo' size, Aunt Cindy Ann 
She gin me dat ole fan. 
Lawsee ! how I done strut all day, 
Dey cudden' git hit 'way, 
I tukken hit into baid. 

Hit been thu heaps a-wavin' in my hand', 

Dat dyah ole fedder fan ! 

When yo' paw come a-co'tin' me 

I sot an' laft " te-hee," 

Behime dat same ole fan. 

At my maw's burryin' I hilt de fan 
Clincht tight up in my han', 
Reckon I'd fainted den an' dere 
But fer de good, cool air 

I gotten f'um off my fan. 

When I got 'ligion I whulld dat fan 
Victor' ous in my han', 
A-shoutin' "Glory !" wid all my might, 
Ontell I mos' tuk flight 

On de wings of dat dyah fan. 
tn 177 



178 DE TUKKEY-TAIL EAN. 

When I got ma'ied, de good ole fan 
Wuz trem'lin' in my han' ; 
I made de 'sponses mighty low, 
An' hid my blushin', so, 
Behime de tukkey fan. 

When you-all'z sprinkelt, I hilt de fan 
Right proud-lak in my han' ; 
'Ooman dat to de Lawd kin show 
Twelve chillen in a row 

Has 'casion to be proud. 

When y'-all burry me, I wan' dat fan 
Betwix' my folded han' ; 
Seem lak eben on Zion's Hill 
I'd wan' dat ole fan still, 

To beat time whiles I sing 

'Lias ! fo' de Lawd, has you gotten dat fan 
Still in yo' sassy han' ? 
Des putt hit right back on dat nail 
Above de water- pail, 

Whar you gotten hit f'um ! 



MISS JINNY. 

Been settin' heah mos' all las' night lak dis, 
So I be sut'n sho' dat I doan' miss 
De train dat tek me back to we-all place, 
An', honey, yo'n's de fustes' fren'ly face 
I'se seed, an' yo'n's de on'ies' fren'ly wud, 
'Mongs' all dis crowd, my po' ole eahs hab heard. 
I ax some white trash, p'litely, ef dee know 
Jes' when de cyar fer we-all place 'ud go, — 
Dee bus' out laughin', an' den off dee went 
A-lettin on dee doan' know whar I meant. 
Er ef dee didn' re'ly know, dat shows 
Dey's on'y trash, de quality all knows 
My white-folks, an' jes' whar dee all belong. 
Honey, I'se mighty 'feard I start off wrong, 
I hopes you 'scuse me ef I ax you plain 
To lemme know when dee calls off my train ? 
I seed yuz sho'- miff lady by yo' face, 
An' k no wed you'd know de train fer we-all place. 
Miss Jinny' maw she wanted me to go 
Wid her when she went back, but I say no, 
I cudden leave Miss Jinny heah alone. — 
Seem lak I lub her same'z she been my own ! 
I nuss her sence she jes' a l'il mite, 
An' use' to hab her wid me day an' night, 
De elites', sweetes', baddes' l'il sprig ! 
An' hit 'uz jes' de same when she growed big, 
179 



180 MISS JINNY. 

An' when she ma'ied den she tuk me too; 
She say, "Why, Mammy, hit 'ud never do 
Fer me to leabe you, you my bestes' fren' !" 
She call me " Mammy" to de ve'y en', 
Wid her las' bref, — yaas, miss, Miss Jinny daid, 
We bring her heah las' Chuseday, an' we laid 
Her down to res' 'mongs' all her husband's kin,- 
Dat 'uz his sesso ; we-all want her in 
De ole, ole fambly burryin'-groun' whar all 
Ow' folks' fo'-parrents waits de Las' Day call. 
Dee went back Chuseday evenin', all her folks, 
Her husban' an' her maw an' all ; dee coax 
Ole Mammy fer to go back when dee gone, 
But I jes' cudden leave my chile alone. 
Hit 'uz de fus' night sence she drord a bref 
Dat ever ow' Miss Jinny she been lef ! 
An' so I sot down by her grave an' stayed. 
De dark crep' close all 'roun', but I want 'fraid. 
An' arter 'while hit seem she knowed, somehow, 
An' presen'y I think I heah her 'low, 
" O Mammy, Mammy, faithful to de las' ! 
Yo' lub hit reach eben heah beneaf de grass. 
But now de Everlastin' Arms dee press 
Me clost, an' tek de place of all de res'. 
Go back, go back, deah Mammy Angeline, 
Tek ca' of dat po' baby-chile of mine !" 
An' den I riz up, fer I seem to see 
Dat 'uz de wuk de Lawd cut out fer me ! — 
But dese ole han's dee long to sarve her too ! 
My heart done burried out dyah long o' you, 
Miss Jinny ! Miss Jinny ! 



